Looking around her small, but elegantly appointed office, Dr. Kleo Kafalas glances at the mementos she has gathered over the last few years. A small, sad smile plays at her lips as she gently caresses the bust of Herodotus, whispering, "You would have enjoyed the 18th century. It's a shame I missed it too." She rises from her burgundy, leather chair and picks up the intriguing note from her desk. Kleo then makes her way to the door, turns off the lights and enters the main hallway. The sophisticated professor glances again at the note, as she absently makes her way down the nearly empty corridor.

She is on her way to see Dr. James De'voreaux. Her good friend Dr. Theo Premus, a professor of Classics, told her not to worry - Kleo, however, could not help but feel some trepidation about the meeting. While James was always very polite, he had an intimidating way about him, as if he knew more about what was going on than anyone else did. Of course, he was the head of the 'Order', the city's police for the underground supernatural community, but it was more than that. There was something about De'voreaux that put Kleo ill at ease. The jovial, Theo didn't share that opinion of him - he rather like the fellow, but then again Theo didn't have her vision of history. For when Kleo looked at James - it was like looking through a kaleidoscope aimed at a light bulb. The brilliant hues and shades of the past emanated from him constantly. It was so intense that she could never look at him for more than a minute at a time.

The morning sun shines through the east bank of stained glass at San Cibola University, as Kleo's lithe form cut across the streaks of colored light on the glossy, floor. She can see tiny specks of dust do their graceful ballet as she moves past them. Watching the dust dance about her puts a smile on her rose colored lips. At last she is at Dr. De'voreaux's door. Kleo smoothes her hair, making sure her midnight chignon is place. With the slightest of sighs she knocks on the door.

"Come in," comes the answer immediately. As Kleo opens the heavy aged door she finds James at his desk, flipping thorough a text, a few loose papers scattered about in not so neat piles, and a note pad near his right hand with several arcane symbols hastily written on it. James looks up and takes his glasses off, neatly folding them into his breast pocket, "Good morning Kleo, please take as seat," he smiles as he motions for to one of the large oak chairs in front of his desk.

"Good morning, James. It seems you are keeping busy, today." Smiling at the doctor, she notices that his aura is even brighter this morning. She gracefully takes a seat opposite the distinguished professor. "You know, we missed you at the opening of 'Don Quixote' last weekend - it was a fabulous debut. So fabulous in fact that the Neighborhood Opera Commission will be able to make a sizable donation to the Order’s Memorial Fund, this season."

James sinks back in his chair; Kleo’s lighthearted words had much more weight than she knew. His smile fading to a pensive grimace, “Yes… that good to hear. I’m sure the families will be pleased to hear that… It is along those lines I asked you to see me…” James begins to neaten the piles of paper as he gathers his thoughts.

Kleo notices James' grimace and gives him a concerened look, as she moves forward in her chair. "So how can I be of help?" She tries to make eye contact with the professor, but has a hard time – and quickly looks away.

Looking up from his desk, his shoulders relaxes at Kleo’s words, “Kleo, I will be very honest with you, the reason I didn’t make it last week to the opening, was that the Order had business in Florida. In the operation we lost several people.”

Kleo slightly nods in grim understanding. She had heard of some unsavory business in Florida - but did not know the extent of the tragedy. "Oh, I'm so sorry, James," She reaches across the desk with her immaculately manicured hand to comfort her colleague. "I can make sure that we cut a check to the Memorial Fund this afternoon to help the families that have lost loved ones. Can you share the names of the victims with me?” Kleo stops abruptly as she senses James has something else to say.

"... And now we are looking to fill the positions."

"Hmmmm," she pauses for a moment. "I see - I know how important it is to find good Neighbors for the Order... ah, I would be happy to give you some recommendations, James." As she continues her query, Kleo retrieves her Waterman pen and starts to take notes on her fine, linen stationary. "So, what types of qualifications are you looking for in your recruits?"

“Someone who can see history…” his voice is flat with seriousness, but there is something hidden in his expression. “A person with your particular abilities would make a terrific asset to the Order.”

"Excuse Me?" Kleo politely sputters... Her Waterman pen creates a large, dark blot on the paper. The astonished woman looks at James, trying to read his expression. "James - Ah... I'm flattered... but... I'm a history professor, these days. Why do you think I'd be able to help the Order?"

With a matter-of-fact tone James replies, “Because you are the Muse of History. The ability to see and understand history would be an invaluable benefit for us.” Sitting back in his chair, Kleo can feel James’ eyes scrutinizing her; trying to gauge her reaction.

Kleo stares back at him as long as she can - as she slowly regains her composure. The merest of smiles plays about her lips. As a Muse, she still craves the attention... and has the desire to be needed. She causally puts away her pen and her places her hands in her lap... fingering her silver, filigre bracelet. "James", she begins... "I am truly surprised.... and flattered... but surely you can train others in the art of investigation and analysis". Sighing, she continues, "I like teaching history here at the university... it's certainly given me the space I needed from my sisters... and I get to inspire a few souls, here and there... Seriously... I wouldn't know where to begin an investigation... I don't even know how to shoot a gun!"

With a half smile on his face he retorts, “Kleo, you’ve see everything; you know more about human motivations than most mundane police, and that is critical in an investigation.” The smile quickly fades as he begins folding his hands in front of his face, the weight of James’ voice is almost magnetizing, “However, there is something else… What I am about to tell you cannot be repeated to anyone… many of the Order do not know this”

“The Order is very old. Older than most people know,” continues James as he slowly works off the ring on his right hand. “We have been in San Cibola back in the 1800’s… But we are even older than that. The stone of this ring belonged to the founder of the Order,” he says as he hands it to Kleo.

Kleo gently takes the ring and looks into the depths of the ancient stone. She sees - and feels the years fall away. 500 years, 1000 years, 2000 years ago. maybe more than that. this ring is so old. Kleo can sense it has passed through many hands - and then the Goddess of History sees a vision - It is twilight. the dusky pinks and purples of the setting sun streak across the sky from a desolate, remote mountain top.

There is a group of perhaps 30 people or so, led by an old man. He is bent and wizened, but is clearly in charge. This group seems to wait expectantly. Then - from the cotton candy sky comes a sign. it is an angel. She flies with purpose and grace, her golden hair streaming behind her - her dove, gray wings beat strongly bringing her to the waiting flock. She speaks excitedly to the old man and then the followers. Then she points to the darkening horizon.

The bucolic sunset has given way to a smear of red across blackened clouds. On the edge of the vista there is a terrible, huge being - a monster of charcoal shadows and raging fire. At his feet thousands upon thousands bow and pray - they swarm like summer locust. Kleo feels the utter terror of the group on the hill.

Suddenly, the old man and his followers race down the mountain to face the creature of shadow and fire - and his untold minions. The small group is woefully outnumbered, but they fight with the ultimate fervor and zeal. They are imbued with a heavenly glow that cuts the darkness. Angels upon high join the battle - and they swoop from the heavens attacking the hideous monster trying to contain his evil. But - the creature belches smoke and fire incinerating those who fly too close. Angelic casualties are high, yet the small group and the surviving angels push the monster beyond the horizon. Kleo sees the smoke and fire contained, and then extinguished.

The old man and his followers are visited by the angel again. Her golden tresses are covered in soot and one of her wings hangs awkwardly. She prophesizes that a city will rise in the west - and a shimmering silhouette of the future San Cibola dances before the followers. The city glistens, promising prosperity for several years until… until it begins to glow red and is engulfed in a sea of shadow and fire. From there the fire and shadow spread - consuming the world.

The angel limps skyward and sadly gazes at the people on the desolate mountain.

While it has only been a few seconds... the vivid images of the origins and portent of the ring, fill Kleo's mind. "Oh, dear gods... Not now. It's not time!" She quickly hands the ring back to James... Obviously shaken, Kleo whispers, "I see... when do I start?"

James takes his time replacing his ring, giving Kleo a moment to recompose herself. “Tomorrow; come by headquarters at 7 in the morning. I’ve already talked to Alex. I told him that I have one of my special projects that needs your help full time. He’s said he’ll cover your classes for you and that he has papers for you to sign.” Shifting forward, James leans in towards Kleo, “thank you. History is changing and I need some with clearer vision than mine.”