[Third Person Pov]
With a casual wave of her hand, Annabeth undid the intricate wards she had meticulously woven around the chamber earlier, the shimmering barriers dissolving into faint sparks of golden light that faded into the cool, dusty air. She let out a long, exhausted sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of the battle finally settled over her. "How exhausting…" she muttered under her breath, reaching into the small enchanted pouch at her belt and pulling out a shimmering vial of restoration potion.
Halfway to finishing the drink, she paused and glanced upward toward the ceiling of the ancient tomb, the bottle half empty as it lingered over her lips, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and amusement. "So what do you think? How did I do?"
She lowered her gaze back down toward her feet, where her own shadows began to stir unnaturally across the stone floor, twisting and coiling like living entities. The darkness shifted and formed three and a half glowing stars in a neat row before they slowly dispersed back into amorphous pools of black.
Annabeth pouted, the potion bottle still hovering teasingly close to her lips. "I think for what it's worth, I did great," she protested. "You're just jealous that it wasn't you who got the chance to fight an angel."
The shadows rippled again in response, and elegant, glowing words materialized magically across the floor: "I deducted points based on how injured you got."
"Oh please!" Annabeth rolled her eyes dramatically, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "My injuries are mild compared to what you've been through before."
The words on the floor shimmered and shifted once more. The previous message vanished, replaced by a simple "Fair," which then faded and gave way to a new set of glowing letters: "Good Job on being creative with the uses of Wards."
Annabeth's face lit up with a bright, satisfied beam at the praise, her earlier exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Thank you," she said warmly as she finally tilted the bottle back and drained the remaining potion in one smooth gulp. She tucked the empty vial back into her pouch with a satisfied nod. "As the famous quote goes, 'The best offense is just a really good defense.'"
With renewed energy, Annabeth turned her sharp gaze toward the ornate stone coffin resting at the center of the chamber. She rubbed her hands together eagerly, a mischievous grin spreading across her lips. "Now come to mama. This better be worth heaven's wrath."
She stepped forward and reached for the heavy lid once more, gripping its edges firmly. She attempted to lift it, but her arms strained with unexpected effort. "Why… can't… I… lift this!" she grunted, confusion and frustration creeping into her voice. "I shouldn't be struggling like this at all."
It was then that Annabeth noticed the intricate, glowing carvings along the edges of the lid. The entire coffin suddenly hummed to life, ancient runes igniting with a dangerous, ethereal blue light that pulsed across its surface. She let out a sharp curse in Greek and immediately leaped backward, her hands moving instinctively to summon a powerful ward. A large arcana shield materialized before her in a brilliant flash of protective energy, its surface shimmering with complex magical sigils.
The hidden trap triggered with explosive force. A powerful blast of divine energy erupted from the coffin, slamming into her shield like a thunderclap. The impact sent her skidding backward across the stone floor, her boots digging deep grooves into the ground as she braced herself with all her strength. She fought to hold her position, muscles burning, before finally coming to a halt and dropping down to one knee, panting heavily.
"A hidden ward," she gasped, wiping sweat from her brow. "I wasn't even able to detect it… That was clever."
Shaking off the daze, Annabeth quickly rose to her feet and began dusting off her hands and knees with brisk motions. "I'm too tired for this," she sighed, running a hand through her disheveled hair. Deciding she needed a different approach, she activated an ability she rarely called upon.
"Since this is his tomb, this should work out perfectly," Annabeth muttered to herself with a determined smile. She channeled her magic and invoked **[Historical Conjuration]**.
Beside her, swirling mists began to gather and coalesce in the dim torchlight of the tomb. The ethereal vapor slowly took on a solid, humanoid silhouette—the figure of a much older gentleman with a wise, weathered face and flowing robes. As the mist cleared completely, none other than King Solomon stood before her in spectral yet remarkably lifelike form.
"Nice~" Annabeth celebrated with genuine excitement, immediately stepping forward and shaking his hand with enthusiastic vigor. "I've always wanted to meet the man regarded as the wisest of all. It's truly an honor to meet you, sir!"
Solomon blinked slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion as he glanced around the shadowy chamber. "Where am I?" he asked, his deep, resonant voice echoing softly off the stone walls.
"Ah, this is your tomb," Annabeth explained cheerfully, gesturing around them. "You're kind of dead, and I summoned you for a very specific service. That magnificent coffin over there is where your body is resting, and you're the only one who should be able to open it. So…" She motioned expectantly toward the sealed sarcophagus with a bright, hopeful smile.
Solomon stared at her for a long moment, his expression shifting from bewilderment to utter disbelief. "...Are you robbing my grave?" he asked, his tone heavy with astonishment at the sheer audacity of the young woman who had pulled him from the veil of history just to enlist his help in plundering his own final resting place.
"No, no, of course not," Annabeth waved her hands dismissively with a light scoff, trying her best to sound utterly innocent. "I wouldn't dare do something so disrespectful. I'm a scholar myself, you know? There's a certain sacred respect between fellow scholars, isn't there? I only summoned you because I wanted to honor your legacy properly. I simply couldn't bear the thought of disturbing your resting place without your permission. I'm merely… expecting your assistance, that's all. I truly value your opinion on this matter—"
Annabeth continued rambling, cycling through every form of logic, flattery, and excuse she could conjure on the spot. She spoke rapidly, layering on justifications about academic curiosity, the pursuit of hidden knowledge for the greater good, and how she was actually protecting the artifacts from less honorable hands. Her words flowed like a well-rehearsed performance, full of charm and feigned sincerity.
The shadows beneath her feet shifted once again, slithering across the stone floor to form glowing words: "Are you seriously trying to trick the man blessed with wisdom from God himself?"
Annabeth's eyes widened for a split second. She quickly kicked at the shadows with her boot, brushing and scattering the accusing letters until they dissolved into harmless wisps of darkness. She then turned back to Solomon with her hands clasped sweetly behind her back, tilting her head and flashing the most innocent, wide-eyed smile she could muster.
To her surprise, Solomon let out a long, weary sigh. "Okay," he agreed, his voice carrying a hint of reluctant amusement.
'It worked?' Annabeth thought triumphantly. The shadows beneath her immediately echoed her inner thoughts, spelling out the exact words across the floor. She reacted instantly, stomping her foot down hard to erase them before Solomon could notice.
Thanks to the tomb's ancient wards recognizing their rightful master, the heavy stone lid was no longer an obstacle. Solomon placed one spectral hand on the coffin and gave it a gentle push. The lid slid open smoothly with a deep, resonant groan that echoed through the chamber, revealing the skeletal remains inside.
The skeleton still wore tattered fragments of once-regal robes, now faded and threadbare after centuries. Its bony hands clutched a thick, ancient book tightly against its ribcage, while one finger bore a single, ominous black ring that seemed to absorb the surrounding light.
"That is… more disturbing than I initially expected," Solomon remarked quietly, staring down at his own decayed corpse with a mixture of fascination and melancholy.
"Yeah, yeah, old man, your job here is done," Annabeth said dismissively, waving him off with a casual flick of her wrist. "Shoo." She canceled her **[Historical Conjuration]** ability with a quick gesture. The spectral form of Solomon began to dissolve back into swirling mist.
"I fear I may have made a grave mistake—" were the last words Solomon muttered to himself, his voice fading into the ether as he disappeared completely.
The moment he was gone, Annabeth's expression shifted into one of pure excitement. She leaned over the open coffin and grabbed the skeleton's bony wrist without hesitation. With a careful twist, she extracted the sleek black ring from its finger. "I'll be taking that, thank you very much," she whispered gleefully.
She held the ring up to the light, examining its dark, polished surface and intricate engravings. Then, with eager anticipation, she slid it onto her own finger.
Instantly, an unbearable burning pain erupted across the back of her hand, as if white-hot iron was being pressed into her flesh. The agony spread like liquid fire through her veins, radiating throughout her entire body.
"Arghhh!!" Annabeth cried out in pure agony, clutching the back of her hand as she staggered. The pain was so intense it brought her crashing down to her knees, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.
When the searing finally subsided enough for her to focus, she looked at her hand and saw a fresh mark had been branded into her skin—a stylized half-lidded eye, intricate and mysterious.
Annabeth whimpered softly as she collected herself, still breathing heavily. She studied the newly formed mark closely, tracing its edges with a trembling finger. "At least the design is cool…" she muttered, slowly pushing herself back up to her feet with a determined breath.
"Now then," she said, steadying herself with a deep inhale. "For what I really came for."
With reverent hands, she carefully pried the thick book free from the skeleton's grasp. She lifted it high toward the ceiling where a single beam of divine light filtered down through the ancient chamber, illuminating the tome like a sacred relic.
"Bwahahaha! Finally!" Annabeth laughed triumphantly, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "It's mine! The Ars Goetia is finally mine! Bwahahahaha!!"
Her manic laughter filled the tomb as she clutched the legendary grimoire tightly to her chest, eyes gleaming with victorious delight.
********************************************
+10 advance Chapters and my other patron exclusive content on: patreon.com/Shadow_D_Monarch3