prologue
july 13th, 1942
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the british museum had many artifacts spanning across multiple centuries. the older the artifact, the more valuable it was. however, if there was little to no information regarding said artifact, they couldn't see why it shouldn't be in the hands of some other collector, instead.
that was the very case of the 11th century silver chest that james was now holding and polishing. this piece, along with a couple of other bits and bobs that some of their team had unearthed in a cave last week, would have been the newest addition to their glass displays. however, there was no known information about this chest— nor the owner, nor the creator, nor even the strange symbols that couldn't be deciphered or found in any old language textbook.
but who was James to care? he was just here to clean. he was here for the paycheck. he wasn't somebody who studied this kind of stuff.
"bloody stain..." James muttered, scrubbing away at a mysterious dark stain stuck on the silver. still, he knew this would be worth thousands of pounds at the right pawnshop. this kind of silver was hard to come by, especially in almost pristine condition. how was that even possible?
his finger brushed against the lock of the chest— something that the museum didn't open. why wouldn't they? there could be something valuable inside. perhaps gold coins worth a fortune. James shook the silver chest, and something inside rattled. his curiosity was piqued even more. what was inside this chest?
"oi, Cline!" called one of the security guards. "hurry up on your polishin' and get your arse home. you've been there for a minute, yeah?"
"j-just a moment, Bryce." James replied, startled, before turning his attention back to the silver chest. when Bryce wasn't looking, he slipped into a corridor and began to pick the lock of the chest— something he knew how to do from many days of being locked out of his own flat because he forgot his keys. when the lock clicked, he slowly cracked it open.
there were no gold coins inside, just a small obsidian carving of a nude woman with her long hair covering her pert breasts. there were words written on a piece of parchment. latin. James, out of curiosity, took the parchment and read it aloud:
"de vallibus inferi, quibus regnasti, ad plana terrae perges, et a legionibus, quibus regnasti, ad homines servitutem rediges."
the silver chest suddenly turned fiery hot in his grasp; and when it slipped from his hands, it shattered like glass onto the marble floor.
"shit!" James cursed, but then stopped dead in his tracks as the obsidian figurine started smoking. he took a step back, rubbing his eyes, and continued backing away until an unseen force pushed him down, making him hit his head on the floor. when he opened his eyes, the pain was ringing in his ear, and so was the voice of a female, laughing, gradually getting louder— gradually sounding more and more ominous.
"a human? how... delicious."
a naked woman resembling the obsidian figurine knelt before him, her long nails tracing his cheek. her eyes glowed red, her hair a matted, tangling mess, her skin dirty, her mouth dark and her teeth rotted. she looked like she had crawled out of hell— and perhaps she did.
"w-who the bloody hell-" James started, but was interrupted as the woman forcefully kissed him. he struggled, trying to pry her off of him, but soon grew limp. why... why was pleasure swimming in his mind? her tongue... oh, her tongue...
he didn't realize that she was slowly sucking away his soul.
after a few more moments, Alitha let go of poor James, who looked like a husk. she sighed in pleasure, sitting back against a wall, as his soul began replenishing her own soulless body. her hair became silky again, the gentle curls bouncing with every move. her skin, once dirty and ashen, glowed incandescently like it had been scrubbed clean with expensive oils and soaps. her mouth was no longer dark, but plump and the color of cherries, with pearly white teeth behind her lips.
it had been centuries since she'd looked this beautiful.
with a smile, Alitha kicked away the lifeless body of James, took the obsidian figurine, and crushed it like it was nothing in her slender fingers. once it was nothing but sand, she threw the dust into the wind. rolling her shoulders slightly, the sigil tattoos on her back glowed red, then sprouted into bat wings, which she used to fly away into the night.
one could only wonder the horror Bryce had on his face as he found his co-worker in such a state an hour later, or the magnitude of shock that the museum staff had as they checked the surveillance and found nothing.
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a/n: feedback is much appreciated!
