Departure to Ironspire
It was one of those days. The kind of day where you wake up and immediately know that something, somewhere, had gone spectacularly and unambiguously wrong. Your faithful cat-bot Bastet was missing—and nothing good ever started with a missing cat.
Normally, she would’ve already been by your side, purring smugly and issuing sarcastic commentary about your bed head, ready to face the day with her usual mechanical grace and unsettling efficiency.
Your home, the peaceful village of Tinkerville, sat quietly at the edge of a deep forest, as if pretending not to notice the monstrosity looming just beyond the trees: Ironspire. The name alone was enough to make flowers wilt and small children behave. In Ironspire, machines ruled with cold logic and cruel precision. Laws were followed to the letter, especially the ones that forbade joy, affection, or—heaven forbid—creativity.
And Bastet was gone because she had a reason.
G4r-10—Gart, as Bastet had called him, sometimes with something suspiciously close to affection—had been dismantled. Not “turned off” or “put into storage.” No, properly, officially, bureaucratically scrapped. And Gart had been more than a bot. He had tended the gardens of Tinkerville like they were sacred grounds, inventing wondrous devices that turned sunlight into colours and boredom into delight. Which, of course, made him highly illegal in a city like Ironspire.
Bastet had watched his capture in stunned silence, her optical sensors wide, her whiskers twitching with fury. She had been furious. Distraught. And, most dangerously of all, determined.
Now she was gone—off to rescue Gart. But she hadn’t left without a plan. Or at least, the beginnings of one. She left behind breadcrumbs of data and an enchanted book filled with the secret languages of the Net. HTML and CSS—arcane arts banned in Ironspire, feared for their power to… rearrange things. Like information. Or reality.
So here you are.
One last look at the quiet streets of Tinkerville, where old bots still water flowers as if nothing had happened. One deep breath to steady your nerves and remind yourself you’re not just some random villager with a knack for tinkering.
You’re a code-wielder now. And Bastet needs you.
You won’t let her down!
Following Bastet’s Trail
The classroom is quiet now. Too quiet, really—the sort of quiet that makes your ears imagine noises just to fill the void. This used to be your sanctuary, the place where Bastet once taught you the basics of the secret arts: HTML incantations, CSS enchantments, and the occasional lecture on why semicolons are not optional.
Cryptic symbols still cling to the chalkboard, faintly glowing in the moonlight. Words and sigils that would look like nonsense to most—“float: left;” being a prime example—but to the trained eye, they whisper forgotten truths about the structure of reality (and layout design).
On the heavy oak table lies a crumpled map. It’s half-hand-drawn, half-clockwork, with glowing runes where compass roses should be. Bastet has marked your first quest so obviously it feels like she’s mocking you. The mark might as well say: “Don’t get lost, genius.”
You can already see how each task will bring you closer to her—and show you the winding path she took to save Gart. You remember her final look: a mix of worry, defiance, and trust. She knew you’d take up the trail. She also knew you’d hesitate. Bastet always planned for both.
So you take a deep breath. One last look at the glowing map. A quiet, firm, “I’ve got this.” Then you gather your belongings and slip out like a whisper, careful not to wake any ancient dragons—or nosy neighbours.
Moonlight washes the world in silver, and somewhere, crickets chirp in the key of C minor. You move like a shadow across the wide fields of Sunnyside, until you reach the old oak tree—the one that remembers all the stories you and Bastet ever shared.
And from here, the real journey begins.
My friend, if you’re holding this book in your hands, you’re ready to embark on a truly great adventure. You know how much Gart meant to both of us—much more than just a machine, he was part of our little family. And now he’s gone. Taken, scrapped, lost somewhere in the dark corners of Ironspire. I have set out to find him, and I need your help now more than ever.
This book is no ordinary book. It was written by Hiram, Seraphina, and Morrigan, to teach you the very skills that will help us tackle the obstacles and puzzles ahead. Hiram laid the foundation, Seraphina brought it to life with color and spirit, and Morrigan added her magic to ensure that even the trickiest tasks can be conquered.
But make no mistake—this is no easy path. Each page, each chapter will bring you closer to the solution we so desperately need. Yet, it will also challenge you. You’ll need this knowledge to help me save Gart before it’s too late. So hold on to this book tightly, for it’ s the key to unlocking the secrets Ironspire has worked so hard to conceal.
If you’re unsure where to begin—start with The Ancient Oak. That’s where the origin lies, the first step on this journey we must take. And remember: every step you take brings us closer. I trust you. Until we meet again. And don’t forget: we can do this, as long as we stick together.
– Yours,
Bastet
The Web Wizard Journey
Before you open the Spellbook –
take a look at what awaits you in Aetheron.