Isaac Brodie knows what he saw. He knows he saw magic in his father's mine, years gone by. He knows it nearly killed him. He knows too well others don't believe. And he knows he has to prove it, if it takes him to the corners of the world. He wants it more than anything in the world.

He doesn't know just how precious this knowledge is. He doesn't know that kings and queens would wage war over it. A true knight would die for it. An opportunist would nurture it, against sage advice.

A person of most empathy would not care to touch it, if only to protect innocents from the others. A courageous person might embrace even them.

Isaac dare not predict its epic extent, but all the same, he might let himself dream.