“What’s that?” I whispered. 
 “I dunno.” Ashton whispered back. 
 “Should we ask, or--” 
 Ashton suddenly shot me an ‘are you kidding me Asher?’ look, and decided to tiptoe downstairs by himself, putting on a display of pressing himself against the Victorian-esque wallpaper whenever a noise sounded from the creaky steps below his feet. He glanced at our uncle’s door a few times before speed walking over to the coffee table and snatching the newspaper from it. Walking back up the steps, he did a series of dramatic turn-arounds to look at the door every other step until returning to the landing. 
 “Thanks, Tom Cruise, for that live performance of Mission Impossible,” I said. “What was that for?” 
 “Oh, my dear brother, have you forgotten how our uncle just came in?” Ashton said, putting his hand on my shoulder as we walked back up the steps to the long hall that led to our room. “He’d go mad if he found out we were meddling in well... whatever this is.” He undid the binding on the newspaper and let it unfold by itself. He placed his glasses onto the top his head while he started to read, his face close to the newspaper and his eyes squinting as if making himself focus on the words. 
 When we reached our room, which contained a bunk bed (I have the top, Ashton has the bottom.) in the left corner, a large window to the right of it draped with white curtains, two beanbags that go with a small, oak cocktail table, and a nightstand cluttered with empty soda cans and pencils, I climbed up to my place at the top, while Ashton plopped on the bottom, his left leg hanging off of it. I couldn’t see him, but I knew his cheek was resting on his right hand, while the newspaper sat in his left. He was murmuring the words on the page, and I knew his glasses would still be resting on his head. 
 It was a habit he’d had since he was seven. He’d been doing it for about eight years now. When he didn’t have his glasses on, we looked like near exact copies of each other, because we’re identical twins. Our only differences, aside from the glasses; was that I had more freckles and that he was slightly taller. We’d been best friends for our entire lives (except the twelve minutes after I was born), and we’d often get confused for each other, until Ashton chose to continue wearing glasses when he was ten, while I chose to get contacts. 
 “Aha! Here it is!” Ashton said with enthusiasm, getting up from the bottom bunk and climbing the ladder to sit at the edge of the top bunk. 
 “Hm?” 
 “The Angel’s Eye is a symbol of luck, and those who possess it will receive a great deal of wealth and power,” he said, giving a little nod when he finished. 
 “Uh-huh, but what about it being stolen?” I asked. 
 “Oh, yeah, right.” he said sheepishly with a grin on his face, then read again: “There is, despite thorough investigation, no evidence as to who stole the Angel’s Eye. It is believed, to be the convicted robber of Quire Bank, Oston Snare.” Ashton ended with a snicker. 
 “Pfft, funny name, don’t you think?” 
 “Oston Snare is not someone to joke about, boys.” A voice sounded from outside our room. 
  Ashton screamed and threw the newspaper into the air, and his glasses fell off the top of his head and onto the tip of his nose, while I shrieked with laughter until the owner of the voice said: “Enough.” and stepped into the room. Our uncle, Quinterrius Lithen, bore bags under his eyes and a stern but sad look on his face, twisted by the weight of stress upon his shoulders. He worked for Law Enforcement in Atrumis over in Niagara. The man could take down a fully grown Elephino, still be home for brunch, and look respectable enough to impress your grandmother. 
  “Why’d Oston Snare steal the Angel’s Eye?” I asked, leaning over the bunk’s railing. 
  “Aside from the unlimited luck? No idea. The man has gotten thousands just by robbing Quire once, and we’re not even on his trail. We’ve tried to put ourselves in his shoes, still, nothing.” he said, shaking his head. He looked up at us as though he’d failed us and the entire world, as if he was the one who let the Angel’s Eye slip through his fingers. “It’s no matter boys, just don’t go digging into this. Remember, Oston Snare is no one to fool around with.” He said, turning on his heels and walking out of the room, leaving us alone. 
  “Well...” Ashton began. 
  “Well...?” I asked him. 
  “Well, I might do some research on Sir Snare, there’s bound to be records on him someplace in that study.” 
 “Any particular reason?” 
 “Not at all.” He said, in an unconvincing voice. “Wanna join me?” 
  I raised an eyebrow at him, then smirked, and said: “You bet.” 
  We jumped off the top bunk, first Ashton, then me. We walked out into the hall and down, heading towards the study. The floorboards groaned beneath us and our steps echoed off the walls of the corridor. We walked into the study, and I stepped in front of Ashton. 
  “What book d’you think it’d be in?” I asked. 
  “Try ‘Family Records of the Recent Century’.” 
  “Right.” I cleared my throat. “’Family Records of the Recent Century’?” I asked presumably nobody. 
   The bookshelf on my right started to shake violently, as if it was malfunctioning like a faulty piece of machinery. It only stopped when a book was launched from it, flying towards my outstretched hands. It lingered in the air above them for a few seconds, then fluttered down and rested upon them. 
  I inhaled and said: “Show me information on Oston Snare.” 
  The book shuddered, shaking out dust, and flipped it’s pages to number 263, headed: ‘The Snares’. It was adorned with elaborate Victorian designs on the page edges. I read aloud: 
“’The Snares are a rich family dating back into the early Middle Ages in Europe. Their lives were always complicated and sophisticated compared to even some of the wealthiest persons of that time. The children of the Snares were always known to become either leading government officials or fierce warriors that conquered all who dared to cross them. Most old families of this time lost a small amount of member to the Black Plague, but not the Snares, hardened to the point of immunity to the disease that killed one-third of Europe. More recently, the son of Mela and Renson, Oston, broke away from the family at the age of eighteen, and chose to pursue a life of crime. He began with breaking into small houses in communities such as Okeechobee, stealing only small things such as jewelry and even tableware. Then he began to find valuables under the floorboards and behind the walls, with no background knowledge of their existence. He was deemed insane by the Atrumis and Law Enforcement was put on their guard. He went off the radar for three months, until on the morning of May 12th, workers of Quire Bank found 600,000 worth of currency gone. He was taken to trial and was found guilty, sentenced to ninety years of prison. However, while being transported, the man escaped and hasn’t been seen since.” 
  I let out a low whistle, and I was thinking. If he had found ways to disappear without being detected by top officer from the Atrumis, imagine what the man could do if he harnessed all the luck in the world. 
 Ashton looked at me, then spoke: “He’s crazy. Why would he want all of this? Even after stealing all of that?” 
 “Greed?” I asked. 
  Ashton thought. “Use the Angel’s Eye to get everything you ever wanted? To get all the money in Quire? He inquired. 
  “Exactly.” 

 “That could possibly work, but what would he want to prove by getting all of--” 
   Our uncle’s voice rang from downstairs: “Ashton! Asher! Dinner!” 
   We groaned in unison, then we got up and started our way downstairs. Our uncle was sitting on the couch next to the coffee table, with a hot, steaming steak waiting for each of us, and some fluffy baked potatoes. What illuminated the meal was the last few rays of sunlight leaking from the sunset, streaming through the window. We sat down next to our uncle and exchanged a few “thank you”’s and “please pass me the butter”’s before we got to the topic at hand. 
  “Don’t think I don’t know what you boys are up to.” 
   Ashton, with his face full of potato, managed a “hm?” 
   Our uncle sighed and said: “You kids are researching every little thing about the Angel’s Eye and Oston Snare.” 
    “How did you--?” I started 
    “I was the same when I was your age.” 
    “That explains it.” 
    “I’m taking you two into work tomorrow in Niagara, because there’s no way of talking you out of pursuing your own investigation, and not to mention, my coworkers would like to meet you.” 
    Ashton and I nodded casually, but our uncle most likely saw the excitement dancing in our eyes and the eagerness on our faces, because he said: “Calm down, we’ll be getting up at 5:30 and I expect you two to be ready at 6:15, then we’ll set off.” 
   “Yes, sir.” 
    After dinner, we trudged back up the stairs, the hot meal resting in our stomachs made us drowsy as ever. We both got washed up, and dragged our feet into our room, ready to fall asleep as we were standing. Ashton fell onto the bottom bunk with a thud and managed to mutter a “good-night.” with his face mushed in pillow. I climbed up into my own bed and mumbled my own garbled “good-night” to him. I shut off the light with two claps and laid down on my back. Despite how tired I was, I couldn’t fall asleep right away; instead, I watched as the curtains swayed in the breeze from the fan, and how the moonlight danced on the walls as a result. Ashton’s snores filled the room and I started thinking about the Angel’s Eye, not in the hands of the notorious criminal, but in our own. I imagined what life would be like if we wielded all the luck in the world. Straight A’s all quarters, even better, no school at all. We’d find everything we’d look for, all the answers to every question, all the riches man could find. We’d be able to go where we’d always wanted to go, Ireland, the U.K., the whole world, and best of all, have my best friend beside me wherever and whenever. I smiled to myself, I knew that if I’d ever get my hands on that Angel’s Eye, I’d keep it with me, for myself and for my brother. 

  A howl from that stupid pen awoke me fifteen minutes early from a strange dream I’d been having about me being Indiana Jones, and instead of the giant rock chasing me, I was being chased by the Angel’s Eye and Oston Snare was pushing it. The rest of the morning went by in a blur, we were pushed into the kitchen by our uncle, who made us scrambled eggs and some bacon. Then, we went back upstairs to get clothes on, which were our normal clothes, except “less sloppy” as our uncle put it. Ashton’s t-shirt had to be tucked in and my flannel had to be tucked in and buttoned up. We then had to tame our hair by wetting hairbrushes and tugging them through the knots. When we were then deemed respectable enough, we set on our way at 6:25 due to Ashton losing his glasses, only finding that they were on his head. The sun was beginning to peak on the horizon and the morning clouds seemed to ripple. We walked a mile to the outskirts of our neighborhood, where a massive hill was waiting for us. 
  “Alright, boys, stay here while I find the rock.” Our uncle said, then he started talking to himself. “Every time! They always move the dang thing around every week or so...” 
  We stared at him awkwardly moving about the hill, trying to find the rock, until his voice chimed: “Aha! Here it is, gather ‘round now.” 
  We stood in a circle surrounding a barnacle covered rock with a lighthouse etched into it. Our uncle pressed down onto the etching, and it seemed to sink into the rock, then slowly inch back out. We started to rise into the sky, and we braced for a cold impact. We hit the “sky”, and at first it was like moving through jelly, solid, but slimy. Then we started to swim through it as it became more fluid, rising higher and higher until our hands finally felt the embrace of air hit them, and we gasped for our breaths. 
  We’d just passed the boundary that separates us from the rest of America. We’d just passed through Lake Superior. 
  The journey to shore wasn’t too long, as we came from a shallow area. When we reached the shore, our uncle snapped his fingers and dried himself off. He then put his hands on our shoulders and told us to snap, and we were dried too. It felt as though the water evaporated off my skin. 
  “Okay, prepare to get misted, boys. Grab onto my arms, please. We’re headed to Niagara Falls.” He said. 
   We clung onto our uncle’s arms for dear life, as we plunged into what seemed like flying. I felt things whizz on by past my ears. I could see the motion blurred forms of trees and mountains rush by at over a hundred miles per hour, until we landed where soft mist blew onto my face and the air tasted fresh. I looked around, and we were at the foot of the falls, standing on a large rock. In front of us stood a large gap in the waterfall, where something inside twinkled. A clear space in front of us gave us a path to walk on, and we entered a humongous cavern, in which a large building rested. 
   “Welcome, to where I work.” 
    Voices echoed from inside the building, and we started in. We walked into a medium height corridor, which contained many doors to presumably offices and meeting rooms. The grey tile beneath us was so shiny, that I could see my reflection in it. As we exited that hallway, we walked into what was possibly the grandest thing I had ever seen. 
   A giant atrium, cylindrical shaped, with a giant, golden chandelier hanging down from the roof, which had an entire astronomical map laid out onto it, moving slowly, as if you were staring up into the night sky. In the center of the ground floor, rose a pedestal of bronze, which projected a hologram of the Earth, spinning on its axis. On the Earth, there were many red dots, one on each of the Great Lakes, dozens scattered around the rest of America and Canada, and hundreds, possibly even thousands scrambled around the rest of the world. On the walls there was a grand spiral staircase, that begun to our left. The tiles had transitioned from a dark grey to a shimmering silver, glistening and glowing whenever we took a step. We started towards the staircase, whose steps were as gold as the chandelier. 
   We strolled up to the third floor, where our uncle worked, and we walked into a stretchy looking room that had a giant map of the United States hanging on the wall. Apparently, we’d interrupted the conversation that was being held in there. About thirty pairs of eyes stared at us, until a male’s voice yelled: “Hey! Quinty!” 
  Ashton and I snickered. “Quinty?” We asked in unison. 
  Our uncle flushed in embarrassment, then directed his attention to the male. “May I remind you of your nickname? Also, everyone, I would like you meet my nephews: Asher and Ashton Lithen.” 
  We waved kind of shyly at the thirty or so people staring at us, we were greeted by a bunch of “Aww”s and “They’re adorable!”s. 
  “Alright, alright, quit it. They want to learn about the Angel’s Eye.” Our uncle said to them. 
   A murmur arose from the crowd. One woman asked: “How old are they?” 
   Ashton answered this one: “Fifteen, we’re fifteen.” 
   Another murmur, but no one voiced any objections, so we were told to take a seat and listen. 
   The speaker waved his hands and announced: “Andon and Ralph went to the museum to find all that they could and see if we could have er—misinterpreted the legend of the Angel’s Eye.” 

The crowd drew a sharp intake of breath. 
   “And the truth of the matter is that we did. The Angel’s Eye, though containing the power of luck, deems who is worthy and who is not, rather than blindly giving up itself to whoever dares to take it. It can be taken by force, with those who have enough willpower. Oston Snare, had enough willpower two nights ago to break and steal it.” 
   I was getting excited, the fact that it chooses who is worthy of power was enough to have me sold on the thought of pursuing the dream of getting it. I was well worthy enough, and would only possess it for good intentions, to get my brother and I into a place we’d always wanted to be, to get that dream we’d been chasing. If only we could just get it back from Snare... 
  I looked at Ashton, for once he had an unreadable expression on his face, it kept contorting with every word the speaker said. I started tapping him on the shoulder and he looked absentmindedly back at me. I was basically jumping in my seat. 
  “What?” He asked, and a bit of concern flashed on his face, 
  “C’mon, we gotta talk outside.” I said. 
  “Oh, okay. Why if I may--” He started, but I abruptly broke in. 
  I turned to our uncle: “Uncle Quin?” I asked. 
 “Yes, Asher?” 
  “Can Ashton and I talk outside?” 
  “Of course, go right ahead.” 
   I grabbed Ashton’s arm and dragged him out of his seat and out the door, into the stairwell. It was deserted, everyone must’ve been at a meeting or doing some sort of work. 
   “What’s all this about?” He asked me. He still bore the unreadable expression on his face. 
   “What if we had the Angel’s Eye?” 
   “What?” 
   “You heard me, what if we had it?” 
    “Why?” 
    “Have you forgotten? We could get such good grades on our courses that we could graduate early, find all the money we need to travel the world, and we’re home free! If only we could get it back from Snare--” 
   “Asher.” 
   “What?” 
   “That’s not what I want.” 
   “What do you mean?” 
   “I don’t want this stuff handed to me on a silver platter, y’know? I want to work for it. I want to live my life naturally, and besides, that thing is evil.” 
   “I don’t--” 
   “Think of it like this. If you had that thing, your life would revolve around that thing. You’d rely on it until you die, you’d get addicted to all the luck you get from it. I don’t care if it chooses who’s worthy or not. No human could be worthy after any amount of time with it. They’d be consumed by greed.” 
   I was starting to get mad. “You’re the one who wanted to study it in the first place, and then you dragged me into it! Whose fault is that?” 
  He was getting angry too. “I didn’t expect you to get obsessed with the idea of it! That’s not on me buddy!” 
   “Well then, fine! You can go be luckless and sorry at home! I’m going to keep looking for this thing no matter what! I was doing it for OUR dream, pal! I’m sorry you don’t want the same.” I stormed away down the steps, leaving him behind on the dulling gold light of them. I heard him release a frustrated sigh and stomp back to the door, letting it slam behind him. 
   I was muttering to myself, angry at my brother. Doesn’t he want this dream anymore? My eyes were welling up with tears, threatening to overload if I didn’t stop making myself angrier with him. Then, I started thinking: what if I lost my best friend, just because of something like this? I sat in the alcove of the plain hallway we had walked in just a while ago, filled with wonder of what this place even was. Now, I resented it, I resented the building of the Atrumis and I resented the Angel’s Eye. 
   Then, I just couldn’t. I lost it. The tears welling in my eyes finally spilled over, making my face hot, and making me feel shameful. I buried my face into my arms, and I thought about I regretted all I said. I stayed like this for a while, occasionally looking at my reflection in the tiles. My face was puffy and patchy, while my head pounded with the ache of my own thoughts. I didn’t want the stupid Eye anymore, I just wanted it to be back where it belonged and this whole mess to be over. I wanted to make up with Ashton. He’s my best friend in the entire world. Has been, ever since we were born. I rolled these thoughts in my head like this for a good forty-five minutes, milling over what I had done wrong, how I wanted to apologize. He probably wouldn’t accept it, because I was being petty. Footsteps slapping on the shiny tiles echoed on the walls and they kept getting closer, approaching me. 

  “Hey.” Ashton’s voice sounded from in front of me. 
  I sniffed and looked up. 
  “Hey.” I said weakly. 
 “Listen, I--” 
 “No, I yelled at you, you shouldn’t be sorry.” 
  “Just letting you know, I still want that dream, I just don’t want some mystical eye-thingy to get it for me. You don’t have to feel the same, I just want to offer at least a truce. I know you won’t let me say it, but I’m sorry.” 
   I chuckled. “Y’know Ashton, for the past forty-five minutes, I’d been thinking the exact same thing. I can see why that Eye was kept somewhere secure. Glad Oston Snare’s got ahold of that burden instead of us. 
   He grinned and said: “Got that right. Listen, Uncle Quin is waiting upstairs for us, while you were gone, the team thinks they may have a lead on where Sir Snare is. Wanna hear it?” He offered me his hand to help me get up. 
   I grabbed it and I got up, grinning back at him. 
  “You betcha.” 
   We walked together, towards the golden steps, talking and laughing together, and we looked up, into the stars above.