An Oshin of Trouble

Chapter Five The Sky Shrine

Chapter Five

The Sky Shrine

Oshin and VW ducked beneath the massive stone slab and entered the Sky Shrine. Their flashlights pierced the darkness, revealing a small chamber carved deep into the sandstone.

Around the room, five shallow stone trays rested on low pedestals. Upon each tray lay a necklace unlike any they had ever seen. Every necklace was strung with turquoise beads and centered around a different animal fetish, each beautifully carved from brilliant blue-green stone.

VW took a step toward the nearest tray.

“Don’t touch anything,” Oshin said sharply.

VW stopped.

Oshin slowly swept his flashlight across the ceiling, then glanced back at the enormous slab hanging over the entrance.

“Take photographs,” he said quietly. “Nothing more.”

“You think it’s trapped?”

Oshin nodded.

“I’d bet whoever built this shrine wanted these treasures to remain here forever. Touch the wrong necklace, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that slab comes crashing down, sealing us inside.”

VW slowly lowered his hand.

“I’ll stick to taking pictures.”

After photographing every angle of the shrine, the necklaces, the pedestals, and the surrounding walls, Oshin slowly lowered his camera.

“Extraordinary,” he whispered.

He took one last look around the chamber before turning to VW.

“Let’s get out of here and bring in a real archaeologist.”

VW looked surprised.

“You’re leaving all of this here?”

Oshin nodded.

“It has survived for centuries. It deserves to be studied properly, not disturbed by us.”

He glanced back at the massive stone slab hanging above the entrance.

“It will guard the shrine. We’ll hike back to the campground and notify the park rangers. They’ll know who to contact.”

VW looked toward the narrow ledge outside the entrance.

“We’ll return to the campground tonight. First thing in the morning we’ll notify the park rangers. Then I’ll guide the first archaeological team back here. Until then, no one touches a thing.”

VW nodded.

By the time the pair reached the camper at the campground, darkness had already settled over the mesa.

Within a half hour of returning, they had the lights on and dinner cooking. Exhausted from the day’s journey, they sat quietly, still trying to comprehend what they had found beneath the cliff.

Oshin looked out into the darkness.

For the first time in a thousand years, someone stood watch over the Sky Shrine once again.

Then came a knock on the camper door.

VW looked at Oshin. “Expecting someone?”

Oshin shook his head. “No one knows we’re here.”

He opened the door just a crack.

A man in a clean desert jacket stood outside. He looked completely out of place among the campers, his boots too new, his smile too practiced.

“Mr. Oshin? Mr. Whistler?”

Oshin’s hand moved instinctively toward the notebook hidden beneath his coat.

“Who wants to know?”

The man raised both hands. “I represent Mr. Wong.”

VW’s expression changed. “The man who sent the others after us?”

The stranger sighed. “Those men acted without authorization. Mr. Wong is… disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” VW said. “They threatened to hurt us for the key. How did that work out for you?”

“Mr. Wong understands your frustration,” the man replied. “Which is why he wants to make amends.”

He placed a small black case on the camper table and said, “Please take this Mr. Wong wants to back your expedition.”

Inside was a check.

The number made VW stare.

“That’s more money than most people see in a lifetime.”

“Mr. Wong is willing to pay ten times that amount,” the man said, “if you allow his representative to accompany you to the Sky Shrine.”

Oshin looked at the man carefully.

“Why?”

The agent hesitated.

“Because Mr. Wong believes you are the first person in a thousand years to know the path.”

Oshin glanced at VW.

The magician smiled slightly.

“And there it is.”

“What?” VW asked.

“The truth,” Oshin said. “He doesn’t want to hire us. He wants to know what we find.”

The agent remained silent.

Oshin reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“We have already been inside the shrine.”

For the first time, the man’s confident expression disappeared.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “You don’t have the key.”

Oshin smiled.

“Would you like to see the pictures?”

He turned the screen toward him.

“We can start with the entrance. A multi-ton stone slab rests above the passage. One wrong move, and the ancient counterweight shifts. After a thousand years, that slab comes down and seals the entrance forever.”

VW looked at Oshin.

“You’re telling him this?”

“No,” Oshin said quietly. “I’m reminding him.”

“Of what?”

“The Sky Shrine survived for a thousand years because someone cared enough to protect it.”

The agent nodded slowly.

“Then you understand, Mr. Oshin. You have a choice.”

He looked toward the photograph on the phone.

“You can notify the authorities and watch as cameras arrive, barriers go up, and thousands of curious hands reach for what has remained untouched for a millennium.”

He paused.

“Or you can know that you protected a piece of history from the calamity of fame.”

Oshin said, “There’s a difference between protecting history… and hiding it.”

“Money is merely an inconvenience to Mr. Wong,” the agent said. “Fifteen times the amount of that check. Not for the treasure. For the privilege of helping you preserve it.”The agent looked at Oshin for a long moment.

VW blinked. “So you just increase the offer.”

“Mr. Wong does not enjoy wasting time.”

Oshin said nothing.

The agent stepped outside the camper. A few seconds later, Oshin saw him lift a small satellite phone toward the desert sky.

He spoke quietly in another language.

When he returned, his expression had changed.

“Mr. Wong has adjusted his offer.”

VW frowned. “Adjusted?”

“Thirty million dollars. Fifteen million each.”

The camper fell silent.

The agent looked at Oshin.

“Mr. Wong believes everyone has a number. He prefers finding it before using other methods.”

Oshin studied him.

“And if we say no?”

The agent closed the briefcase.

“After that price, Mr. Wong believes there are cheaper options.”

The agent let the words hang in the air for a moment.

Then he continued.

“There’s a team waiting to preserve this find. All you need to do is escort them to the shrine.

“Please, sir… think about what will happen if this becomes public. Fame will destroy this place.”

He looked out toward the darkness beyond the camper window.

“Can you imagine what this canyon will look like next week? Television cameras. News anchors. Tour buses. Sightseers climbing over every trail. Protesters demanding answers. Archaeologists fighting with politicians. The entire world descending on a place that has been hidden for centuries.”

The agent turned back to Oshin.

“And you will be at the center of it all.”

“Every reporter will want your story. Not just the discovery. They will want to know who you are. Where you came from. How you found it. They will dig into your past. Your family. Your finances. Your personal life.”

He paused.

“Your show at The Pier will never be the same.”

Oshin looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Right now, people come to see the Great Oshin, the magician. They come for the mystery. The performance. The illusion.”

The agent shook his head.

“After this, they won’t see the magician anymore. They will see the man who found the lost Sky Shrine. Every night, people will come hoping you reveal secrets. They will ask about the artifacts. They will ask about other discoveries. They will want pieces of your life.”

He leaned forward.a

“Could you still walk down the street without being recognized? Could you still have dinner with your friends? Could you still have a quiet evening at home? Or would there always be someone with a camera waiting?”

The agent lowered his voice.

“Mr. Wong is offering you another path. The shrine remains undisturbed. History is preserved. The world never knows your name because of this discovery.”

He smiled slightly.

“And you return to the life you built.”

“Performing at The Pier. Living on your own terms. Not as a celebrity. Not as a curiosity. Just Oshin. Choose your path.”

The camper fell silent.

Outside, the desert wind whispered across the mesa.

Oshin thought about all the money.

Then looked at the photographs on his phone.

Thirty million dollars…

or a thousand years of history.

He realized that by sunrise, one of those things would belong to someone else.