The young woman lay exhausted in the sweat-soaked bed. Overhead the ceiling fan in her rented apartment struggled to deal with the heat.

After reading about the legend of the miracle cure she felt a physical compulsion to find it. She knew that her parents would never consent to her leaving, so she just left that night and travelled using her wits. She telephoned them the next day to reassure them as much as she could.

Her research had led her over and over again to mentions of the purple sailors - the Phoenicians. Rumours said they had stolen scrolls from the burning Great Library of Alexandria and sailed them away. They were said to have the greatest collection of arcane knowledge. Surely they could help her.

Starting at the modern Library she gradually worked her way outwards through Alexandria. She asked for references to honey and the Mellified Man at bookstores and small back street antique sellers, their stores full of dusty backgammon sets and brass implements. Among the backpackers and tourists she kept noticing a group of five Europeans who seemed to be a team - but she couldn’t imagine what sport they might play. One of them was Dutch and told bad jokes in good English. They ignored her.

She was alone. She was out of her depth. She did not know what she was doing.

Then, today, returning to her apartment she found the note under her door.

Pompey’s Pillar. 16.00. We will enlighten you, honey.

She drifted off to sleep hopeful that tomorrow she would find the answers she craved.

*Remember/dream* The bee
*Remember/dream* The violation
*Remember/dream* The blue energy exploding from her hand
*Remember/dream* The forgetting

She awoke with the feeling that her dreams had been different. She set off early for the Pillar in the west of the city, even though it meant walking in the heat of the day. Sticking to the back streets for shade, she suddenly felt her hand tingle. She heard a car backfire and sensed, more than felt, a sudden rush of wind ahead of her.

She turned into a small square and was struck by the smell of ozone and an impression of … void. A singed scrap of paper fluttered through impossible dimensions before coming to rest at her feet. It was the remains of a photograph of her. “ …ng too close” written on the back. Despite the heat she shivered. She turned back.

The Templar protection/recruitment/extraction squad finally approached her after dealing with the Phoenicians, spirited her away and took her to London. They helped her channel her powers and, when the time was right, asked her for a name. She knew it now.

Preserved by honey. Mellified.

It kept her strong during the nightmares to come.