The Box of Adoration
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Ancient Magi ~
When he was done with the final piece of inlay, Balthazar perfected his last five etchings. The lettering must be perfect for it to work. He then started the finishing process. One coat of linseed oil, then the most important final touch.
He placed a sheaf of dry shredded boswellia herbs into the basin of the tiny hinged chest. He moved his magic candle close and picked up the blade of black obsidian. It glowed with a rich darkness. A deep slice in his left ring-finger flowed ample blood, barely a squeeze and the fibers were almost covered. Perhaps he'd cut too deep, perhaps the liquid portion would be too much. No matter, if two of their three spells were to go according to plan, a new world will be born.
This was their last chance for the next 2,029 years. The three kings of Zoraster’s magic had been in-hiding, deep in their caves, further perfecting their spells since Octavian became Augustus in 27 BC and continued his reign of terror. The secret magi had been researching, practicing, and slowly deciphering an answer. An end to the power of the dark golden god. If they fail, the legends buried inside the fragrant seeds will only bear fruit for the deceitful once again.
Another drop of blood went into the candle, dousing the wick to extinguish the flame. While the wax was still hot, the magician poured the shining impregnated liquid into the adorned box, dripping it over the sacred plants while saying his chosen spell.
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> uohT ohw yam nrub eniht esnecniknarf edisni, yam yht traeh eb erup ot peek eht eniviD esimorp, ot htrib a wen dlrow. fI uoht eil htiw ecirava ro tieced, eeht llahs eesrevo eht wols htaed fo eniht htrae. yrevE emirp raey tsap eht dnoces ainnellim ecneh htrof llahs tnarg ruoy txen ytinutroppo.
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Balthazar closed the ornate box and held his uncut right hand above the lid, almost touching. He licked the ring on the finger of his other hand and used the blood at his fingertip to carefully draw a dark red circle on the back of the floating hand above the chest, at last he spit on it. Then his eyes rolled back to white as the box began smoldering inside.
Modern Anointment ~
I found the strange gigantic jewelry box buried in a disgusting old storage unit. The garage door of the shed barely opened until one of the springs snapped, the auctioneer jumped out of his boots and dropped his hat. I'd won the bidding easily after a rapid-fire fifteen seconds, since nobody else was there at 7am on the Monday after July 4th, 2027.
It didn’t weigh much at all, but it looked heavy like a miniature casket. The moment I touched it, it was like feeling the weight of the world radiating from within. That was frightening, almost horrific.
The chest lived on my mantle for nearly six months. It called to me in a dream one night, three days before the winter solstice. Literally, I had a vision of the hinged top opening like a mouth, speaking to me but with smoke instead of words.
The next morning I woke early, went down stairs and did nothing for an hour, just watched it sitting there. I hadn’t pissed yet, and the discomfort instigated me forward. I picked it up and sat back down to inspect it once and for all. The box was empty inside. Nothing much to see. After closing it I set it down hard on the coffee table. Something felt loose inside, or sounded odd upon impact with the hard surface. I picked it back up and poked around inside, finding a small crack in the bottom panel, I dug in with my fingernail and pried it off. A hidden compartment, a trapdoor with dark-amber-red chunks of some strange fragrant material. I don’t know why--or how--but it begged to be burned. I went and found a copper bowl and a box of matches in the kitchen.
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