"How does it decide what humans are 'meant' to know?" Adam asked. He didn't expect or really want an answer, rhetorically chafing against the idea of having knowledge withheld from him for his own good. He'd spent his life resisting the roles that people said were meant for him or things that were for his own good.

Accepting the book gratefully, Adam cradled it in his arms, leafing through the pages. He was glad to find it was in Latin, which he could understand, though it was an older form than the standardized Classical Latin they were studying at Aglionby. Carrying it over to a nearby table, Adam set it down, taking a seat and pulling out his tarot cards. He laid out three, hoping for guidance, and made a tiny huff of frustration at the results. The Star, the Wheel of Fortune, Three of Pentacles.

"Thanks," he remarked to the cards, or to Cabeswater, or to the temple, or to the Angel, whichever of the forces was currently helping to guide his cards. He felt all of them thrumming under his skin in this place. The ley line flowed through the temple as though they were one and the same, bound together like braided strands. Adam could feel them as distinct, but also as married parts of the same continuum. "I already knew that."