Ronny had that feeling, as his boots crunched against the gravel, that this was going to be an odd one. This one worked outside of the realm of the faceless mob. It wasn't a guess. It was a feeling. The Magician had watched them all. A power hungry architect from Lower Manhattan. A drifting philosopher musician from the suburbs of Vancouver. A streetwise young Filipina from the inner city of Manila. And a brilliant but laid back scientist from the west coast of California. She had watched them all, and then she had called them. And they had all answered. Four lost souls. All gifted, but highly imperfect, and as different from one another as it was possible to get. Now they were suddenly on a quest, looking for the answers from within themselves and from within each other. They searched, from the streets of New York, to the mountains of Laos, to the dusty praries of the Midwest, to a frozen logging town in British Columbia, to the beaches of India, to the Ocean Road in Australia. They had one common goal. They were looking for the Magician.