Chapter 15
822 Words
Their path opened into a larger gallery, where a group of students stood gathered around a guide and a teacher. The murmur of voices filled the space, echoing softly against high stone ceilings.
“…and as you can see,” the guide was saying, gesturing broadly to the room and beyond it, “this museum was not simply built near a historic site—it was built on one.”
A student raised a hand. “What kind of site?”
The teacher exchanged a glance with the guide before answering. “According to historical accounts—and local lore—this was the exact field where the final battle between vampires and werewolves took place.”
A ripple of interest moved through the group.
“Who funded it?” a student asked.
The guide smiled faintly. “Our king Kane.”
A few students shifted, whispering the name to each other.
“He donated the full cost of construction,” the teacher added, “with one very specific condition—that the museum be built exactly on this site. Not near it. Not around it. Here.”
“Why?” someone asked.
“That,” the guide said, “was never explained.”
Another student frowned. “So they just… agreed?”
“When someone offers that kind of funding,” the teacher said dryly, “conditions tend to be accepted.”
A quiet laugh moved through the group, though it faded quickly as the guide’s expression grew more serious.
“And during the initial excavation,” the guide continued, “workers uncovered a number of objects that only deepened the mystery.”
Lilly’s attention sharpened.
“Jewelry, for one,” he said. “Not typical pieces—these were unlike anything cataloged. Metals that don’t tarnish. Gemstones that don’t match any known formation. Some pieces seemed almost… unfinished, yet perfectly intact.”
“Unfinished?” a student echoed.
“As though they were created without tools,” the guide clarified. “Or perhaps without being made in the way we understand.”
Mia crossed her arms slightly, listening more intently now.
“Beyond that,” the teacher added, “large stone slabs were uncovered. Buried deep beneath the surface. Each one etched with writing no one has been able to translate.”
“Like ancient languages?” someone asked.
The guide shook his head. “Not exactly. Linguists from all over have studied them. The symbols don’t match any known system of writing. Not even fragments.”
“Then how do you know it is writing?” another student asked.
A pause.
“We don’t,” the guide admitted. “But it repeats in patterns. Structured. Intentional.”
The room fell quieter.
“And then,” the teacher said, “there was the object found at the lowest level of the dig.”
Even the guide seemed to hesitate before continuing.
“A circular piece,” he said slowly. “Roughly the size of a large plate. Made of a material we still haven’t identified—metal, stone, possibly something else entirely. It doesn’t react to heat, pressure, or chemical analysis.”
A student leaned forward. “What did it look like?”
“It was smooth,” the guide said. “Dark, but reflective in certain light. And at its center—there was a symbol.”
“What kind of symbol?”
“…Unknown,” he replied. “Not matching anything in the carvings or slabs above. Completely distinct.”
“And it was attached to something,” the teacher added.
The guide nodded. “A chain. Very thin, almost delicate in appearance—but impossibly strong. It extended outward from the circle in six different directions.”
“Six?” someone repeated.
“Yes,” the guide said. “Each length of chain had to be carefully extracted from the ground. They didn’t end near the surface—they continued… deep.”
“How deep?” a student asked.
The guide met their eyes.
“Over fifty feet,” he said.
A murmur spread through the group.
“They had to pull each length slowly,” the teacher said. “Piece by piece. It took days. Whatever it was connected to—if anything—was never found.”
“Wait,” a student said, confusion creeping in. “So the chains just… stopped?”
“Yes,” the guide replied. “As if they had been severed. Or removed.”
Silence settled heavily now.
Lilly glanced at Mia.
Mia wasn’t looking at the group anymore.
“…Where is that object now?” a student asked quietly.
The guide hesitated.
Then, carefully—
“Stored,” he said. “For now.”
The lights flickered again.
Just once.
And this time, Lilly didn’t miss it.
Something in the room shifted—not physically, not visibly, but undeniably.
Like the past wasn’t buried here.
Like it was waiting.
- Writer
