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know where it was.
    Since I didn’t have anything else to do, I decided to take another look at the net. I reached into my bag, drew out a small white card that had been in the artifact case with the net, and scanned through the words on the front, even though I’d read them a dozen times already.

    This net is thought to have belonged to Ran, the Norse goddess of storms, and was rumored to be among her favorite fishing gear. Despite its fragile appearance, the net is quite strong and can hold much more than it should be able to, given its relatively small size. The braided seaweed itself is thought to have the unusual property of making whatever is inside it seem much lighter than its actual weight . . .

    The card went on to talk about some of the creatures Ran had supposedly caught and tamed with the net, but I skimmed over the rest of the words.
    Instead, I reached back into my bag and grabbed the thin, threadbare net itself. To my surprise, it had folded up quite easily, and I’d looped it over and over again, until the whole thing was no bigger and not much thicker than a belt. I threaded my fingers through some of the loops and reached for my magic.
    But the only thing I saw was the endless rise and fall of the blue-gray ocean, and the only thing I felt was a smooth, constant motion, as if I was bobbing up and down like a fishing lure riding the tops of the waves. The sharp tang of the sea filled my nose, while the sounds of the swells slapping against each other echoed in my ears. I licked my lips and tasted salt. Even more of it seemed to be crusted in my hair, and I could almost feel gritty bits of sand sticking to my skin, as though I’d spent the day at the beach.
    It wasn’t unpleasant, though. In fact, the sensations were some of the nicest I’d experienced with my magic in a long time. So nice, so calm, so soothing, that I could have let the waves carry me away—and all my fears, worries, and heartache along with them.
    But I had a job to do, so instead I concentrated, focusing on the net and all of the images, memories, and emotions attached to it, but the scene and the feelings didn’t change. After a few more seconds, I opened my eyes, unwound my fingers from the gray seaweed, and stuffed the net and the card back into my bag.
    “Anything new?” Oliver asked, watching me.
    I shook my head. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
    “But Nike showed it to you, so it has to be important, right?”
    “I guess. Although I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with a mythological fishing net when we’re hundreds of miles away from the ocean.”
    My eyes drifted upward, searching for inspiration—or some sort of clue. For months, I’d only been able to see darkness whenever I’d gazed up at the ceiling inside the Library of Antiquities. But a few weeks ago, Nike had shown me the amazing fresco hidden beneath the shadows—one of me and my friends fighting the Reapers in some great battle. Each of us had been holding a weapon or some other object, and those were the artifacts that Nike had asked me to find and keep out of the Reapers’ hands. So far, though, Ran’s net had been the only thing I’d been able to identify and track down.
    But once again, shadows obscured the fresco. No help there. At least not tonight.
    “But it looks like the net in my drawing, right?” Oliver asked.
    I couldn’t draw to save my life, but Oliver had some mad art mojo so he’d happily sketched the fresco for me, based on my own crude drawings and descriptions. His detailed sketch was also nestled inside my messenger bag for safekeeping.
    “Your drawing is perfect, and this is definitely the right net,” I said. “It’s not your fault I’m too dumb to understand what the big deal is about it.”
    “Don’t worry, Gwen. You’ll figure it out. You always do. I have faith in you.”
    “Well, it’s a good thing one of us does,” I grumbled.
    Oliver grinned at my sarcasm.
    Since I’d struck out with the net,