The Prisoner

The blood runes have long faded in the millenia, but She knew it was still there. Even in Her porcelain prison, She could feel the Master’s grip on her. So long as the seal on the Urn remained intact, She could not even hope to escape. There was some hope, however; the sands of time have since filled Her temple. And while She couldn’t see through the Urn, the voices of the ages still flowed in. She heard the massive wars, and the sounds of industrialization around Her. She heard the humans discover the power of combustion, the sounds of progress as they moved further and further away from the beings that trapped Her. They haven’t been keeping the sacrifices needed to keep the seals!

After 5,000 years of patience, Her enhanced senses felt it; someone digging. It was slow, methodic, the work of the sages in this era. They had discovered the roof of the temple, and were slowly digging through the detritus. She could feel it. Layer by layer, as if reaching back through time. She waited with inhuman patience, as the humans worked to get closer to her. She felt shock waves; apparently they discovered how to use sound to see where light could not. Fortunately, the Urn She was trapped in had Brass fittings; even if they didn’t find value in it it should still be seen to them. It felt like the work was only a few Cubits away!

They had been working at it for days, methodically cataloguing leftover artifacts. She remembered the bones of at least 2 Priestesses, as well as at least one ram that was last sacrificed. They found each of them, speaking a variant of Her language. To an immortal such as She, She could tell it was corrupted by several other languages from various barbarian tribes, and it sounds like there were even some who were from the north! Perhaps the city states were conquered? It didn’t matter, the digging was only a few fingers from the cavity containing Her Urn. Soon, She will be free. With no seals, only the Urn and the sand remained to block Her. When the Urn is released, all She needs to do is wait for them to open it. Even if the children of Pandora had learned their lesson, She can still wait for the urn to be placed on a table, and a push from within has a chance to break the crumbling clay.

One more finger, and She will be free. One more finger and She can join Her Brothers and Sisters. Slowly, ever so carefully, the Urn was removed from the sand. The clay was so thin She could feel the ridges on their fingers through it. They lifted the Urn, and She coiled within. They placed it on what felt like a table, and She could feel a light shine on it. It was the light that dwelled below what humanity could see, but She knew it could be used to see beyond the flesh. She could now hear traces of speech, and attempted to translate it.

“There seems to be some sort of residue within the urn. Could be some sort of resin, or perhaps blood? X-rays do not give enough information. Preparing to break the seal on top to probe the interior.”

A whirring sound started, and she could feel vibrations as a thin metal spiral spun and cut into the top of the urn that has been her prison. With but the slightest crack, they have broken through! Soon humanity will know. Soon they will know the true horror when Hope, The last of Pandora’s Punishments, is released!