"I was going to email this, but the old-fashioned way is the surest." Nero handed his device to the man in the suit, parking lot's street light glinting off the lapel pins, the night warm and breezy. "These marvels of invention are all well and good, but machinery is limited."

"We will use their tools for our purposes, for as long as they may serve." The man hit a button on his own cellphone and in seconds, the images were transferred across and stored. With another tap, he opened them to see for himself. Nero was accustomed to the poker-face expression of someone playing a very long unfathomable game. There and then, just for those moments, a tiny spark and a lusting thirst was visible, not quite hidden behind the ambition and manipulation. "You have done well. This strengthens us immeasurably."

Nero dipped his head, respectful, the satisfaction being enough reward on its own. "There is little privilege greater than a task so critical. There is another thing to tell you." The man handed Nero's phone back, querying, and so he went on. "One of their elders is working directly with the Order. I saw a name, one I have not come across in years."

"An elder, you say? Are you certain?"

"Yes. Without doubt, it is an alias, as is the custom in these times, but I have no second thoughts that it is one of them." He nodded at the image of the runic text still on the phone's display. "What will happen next?"

"I will seek out the counsel of the rest of the Conclave. This elder must be dealt with accordingly, and the incantation translated. They can provide the resources to achieve this. After, we will find the Fear and do what we must, to seek our justice."

"What we must," echoed Nero, "to bring back fire to this world."