Page 20 of The Messengers of Magic

The Hidden Journal of John Dee

C alibration Log:

One complete rotation of planetary alignments halted at north before reversing in a counterclockwise rotation.

We found the bishop easily convinced of our work for the queen and were led to the crypt without question. Once he left us, we got to work quickly, as there was little time and the window of opportunity was closing quickly.

As soon as the Astral Synchronum settled its alignment, the movement gradually slowed until it became nearly imperceptible.

Then, as if stirred by the heavens themselves, the quartz disc began to glow, a soft white light at first, growing swiftly in intensity until every shadowed corner of the crypt was illuminated as if by daylight.

We turned our faces away as the light grew blinding, each of us struck by the conviction that we had opened a gateway, a bridge to realms beyond our own.

In that moment, Giordano and I were certain we had succeeded in opening the portal.

The light was unlike anything we had ever seen, a pure, holy brightness that seemed to pulse with life itself.

With each second, it intensified, swelling to an almost unbearable brilliance.

And then, in the stillness that followed, it felt as if the very essence of the angelic realm was descending upon us.

Then, with a single, sharp sound like glass shattering under immense force, the quartz disc fractured, casting shards of crystal and fragments of light across the crypt.

We were thrown into darkness, our vision consumed by the lingering burst of light, gripping the darkness around us as our eyes struggled to adjust. When at last we could see again, I rushed to the Synchronum, inspecting every facet for damage.

Though outwardly intact, the device now lay silent and unmoving, defying all attempts to coax it back to life.

It was in that moment that our hearts froze with a chilling realization: if we had failed, we had done the unthinkable, disturbed the very fabric of time.

We stood there in the crypt, shadows lengthening around us, watching with dread for some sign, any sign, that our failed experiment might have set off unseen consequences. We waited, gripped by the silent terror that we might witness the unraveling of the natural order.