The Heart of the Artifact

They hid the artifact in plain sight; sculpted into the statue in the city square. It had not been moved in generations. But this was about to change.

On a cool autumn morning, John ventured out to the city square to check the position of the sun in the sky.

At 6:45 am this morning, it was already nearing the zenith. But even with that accuracy, the solstice was still some hours away.

Taking a deep breath, John carefully raised the bronze chisel carving away at the statue.

The statue’s eye snapped open, staring at him. Its gaze was unnervingly piercing.

He released the chisel, and it fell back onto the ground with a dull clang. He looked up.

The sculpted figure of a mythical goddess appeared in front of him, gazing directly at him, unemotional, without batting an eye.

John shivered as the radiance around the statue burned more strongly. He couldn’t even meet her gaze. For the goddess is not mute. She holds the hammer, who turned the clay to dust.

John stepped through the statue’s doorway. But before he could go any further, he felt the pull, as if someone wanted him to go back.

Nothing unusual in that, just the feeling he got whenever the goddess was nearby.

He glanced up, straightening himself looking straight at the mythical figure. The chisel was lying flat on the floor, right next to the entrance.

She glanced at the door, and then at the chisel. Still straightening her garment, she paused for a moment, and took a deep breath.

She leaned over as her hands tightened on the chisel’s handle, as she turned and slipped silently towards the entrance.

For a moment John stood, frowning, wondering whether he had imagined it, or whether he should go back out the entrance.

Everything fell silent as he stood, wondering if she left. Then he heard another sound. A whimper? The faintest sound? It came from the other side of the entrance.

His eyes were shimmering. He had made no such noise. As he glimpsed around the corner of the entrance, to his amazement, he saw the chisel lying on the ground with no goddess in sight.

He stepped back, crouched down, gripped the chisel’s handle, and picked it up. But where was the noise coming from? His feet carried him towards the noise, as his mind was racing.

Suddenly, the noise had stopped. All was eerie as a quiet came over him. Maybe the sound had been his imagination? Maybe it was nothing.

Suddenly something hard hit him in the back. He flinched, staggered, and fell to the ground.

As he scrambled to get his body up, he was hit again, followed by a third blow to the back of his neck. By the time he had sorted things out, and was still gasping for breath, the shadowy figure was gone.

But he hadn’t been so lucky when he realized he had fallen into a dark chamber beneath the ground.

But this time, things seemed different from what he experienced before. His vision was growing greyer. Lights were dancing around the edges of his vision. Dark spots bloomed in front of his eyes. Suddenly he could feel a gushing wetness. His legs had gone numb.

John stumbled. His legs slid to the side. He grabbed desperately onto the wall, just managing to stay upright as he fell to his knees.

The ground was melting around him. He feared closing his eyes that all would be lost, never to be seen again.

The walls narrowed to an infinitesimal point. He could feel himself slipping away, and then it was gone.

A feeling followed so strongly that his mouth dried up and he felt as if he was wading through quicksand. Suddenly, someone lifted him up, and the world came back into focus.

John groaned as he looked up, finding himself in the arms of the woman who had rescued him.

The woman was staring at him, a strange look of surprise on her face. John stared back at her. “I’m so sorry”, said the strange woman. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

John turned back towards the entrance, his body so still that he seemed to move apart from his surroundings.

“Where did you come from?” But the woman did not reply. He was staring at the keys in her hand, almost as if they were speaking to him.

“These are yours, right?” said John. The woman said no, these are yours. They are the keys to the entrance of the sculpture. He turned and looked back at her, his face a picture of confusion.

John stood up. His legs were still shaking, but he managed to make his way to the entrance.

She was about to grab him from behind when she saw Sir Oliver, the captain of the guard, standing in font of John.

“Well,” she said, “I didn’t expect to see you again. You’re not a candidate for the throne, I’m afraid.”

She glanced at him, seeing his hands close to his sword. She was shocked to see that he was in uniform, the same uniform as the guardsmen in her inner circle.

John proceeded to the entrance and opened the sealed door as he stepped outside. The captain followed him, keeping it half-open. John felt his heart beating faster.

He thought he could hear footsteps and a murmur of voices.

When they reached the outside, Sir Oliver shut the door and went back inside. He wanted to make sure that the goddess could not escape from inside the chamber.

When John opened his eyes again, he looked up at the sky. The sky was dark, and the wind was cold. He was shivering, lying on a blanket of gray mist.

It took a while to realize he was still alive. When he realized he was alive, he stood up and shouted with joy.

John looked around, wondering where he was. In the distance, he could hear the rumble of the sea. The rolling surf had risen with the tide and was drenching the beaches with foam. Flocks of seagulls were hovering overhead, searching the sky for food.

John could see the coastal town of Tarrish in the distance, gleaming in the moonlight. It was an idyllic place, with its maze of wide, palm-tree-lined roads and carriages drifting on the waves, as if they were riding on the sea itself.

As he made his approach to the town, he kept looking over his shoulder for the goddess to reappear, but all was quiet.

It had been a magical experience.