Chapter 10 #2
Upon our entrance, their eyes widen in astonished awe, fixed on the majestic artifact we carefully placed in the center of the table.
Grandad sinks into a chair, clearly overwhelmed, his historian mind momentarily swept off its feet.
Amina grabs the top rail of a chair for support, while Dr. Alarie remains stoically upright, like a statue.
“And I’ve saved the most shocking reveal for last,” I say, lifting the lid to reveal the golden artifacts inside.
The circular amulet is massive—five inches in diameter—with a large jade gemstone secured at the center.
A solid-gold necklace chain runs through it, though it may be far too heavy to wear comfortably.
The dagger is no larger than eight inches, made entirely of solid gold, from blade to handle.
Both are perfectly straight, the only break in the form being the one-inch guard separating them.
The wreathed civic crown looks fit for Julius Caesar or Constantine, each leaf engraved with intricate detail.
I marvel at how someone could achieve such small, flawless craftsmanship.
After Grandad peeks inside, he turns to me, his face pale, recognition flashing in his widened eyes.
I glance at Amina and Dr. Alarie; neither seems to be aware of what they’re seeing.
Bravely, I decide to risk touching the artifacts, lifting them from the chest and placing them carefully on the tabletop.
“These are remarkable,” Amina says, picking up the civic crown to examine it. “What are they?”
“The Eudaemon artifacts,” Grandad declares, removing his smoking pipe from his mouth.
Beneath the sternness in his voice, I can hear the nervousness—mixed emotions clearly running through him.
“The what?” Henry asks.
“The Eudaemon artifacts,” I repeat. “They were—or perhaps still are—a myth from ancient Greece. When the Statue of Zeus, the Temple of Artemis, and the Colossus of Rhodes were built, the Olympians wanted to reward mortals for their endless worship and for erecting these magnificent monuments in their honor. They created three artifacts that could bestow a fraction of their powers upon mortals: the Dagger of Demise, the Amulet of Sight, and the Crown of Compulsion.”
“Given the incredible power these artifacts hold, mortals decreed they were to be used only for protection and safeguarding their people. In Greek mythology, a eudaemon is a good spirit who serves as a protector. Thus, these items became known as the Eudaemon artifacts, and anyone who wields them is called an Eudaemon.”
“A few years passed, with wars waging and disputes between conquerors, and the Eudaemon artifacts simply vanished—never to be seen or used for thousands of years. Over time, humans began to question their existence, given their brief period of use, the lack of records, and their sudden disappearance. Many came to believe they were more than a myth, a bedtime story, or perhaps lost somewhere deep in the Mediterranean. Until now…”
The weight of my revelation hangs in the air, leaving a stunned silence as the others process my story.
The ticking of the wall clock is the only sound.
My eyes meet Grandad’s, filled with a mix of pride and reluctance over our discovery.
Together, we wait patiently, allowing the others to absorb the revelation.
Dr. Alarie lifts the amulet, his gaze flicking to the remaining artifacts on the table. “You both believe these are the real Eudaemon artifacts? Couldn’t they be some sort of replica?”
Amina nods. “I agree with Dr. Alarie. These must be replicas. For artifacts to have survived thousands of years, and in perfect condition…” She runs a fingertip along the spine of the dagger’s blade and leans closer, eye level with it. “Are these made of real gold?”
“Clara, you said you found this in the cave along the coast of the island?” Grandad asks.
I nod.
“Is it truly possible they have been buried in that cave for thousands of years?” Grandad murmurs to himself. He reaches toward the crown, then hesitates, slowly drawing his hand back, afraid to touch it.
“You mentioned before that the artifacts grant some sort of powers from the Olympian deities,” Henry says. “What kind of powers are we referring to here?”
“Well, this is all according to the legend,” I clarify.
“But it’s said the Dagger of Demise will terminate whomever the Eudaemon strikes with it.
It doesn’t matter how small the injury—if blood is drawn, the person will perish.
On the less extreme side, the Amulet of Sight allows the wearer to see whatever they wish to know—whether it’s the future, someone’s location, or any truth they seek.
And lastly, we have the Crown of Compulsion.
The crown grants the wearer the ability to command others, to force them to do whatever the wearer desires. ”
The air in the room grows heavier. Suddenly, the ancient artifacts before us are cast in a different light.
The illusion of their harmlessness falls away, exposing them as possibly the most dangerous weapons in the world.
Horrified, Amina steps back from the dagger, while Gabriel carefully places the amulet back onto the table.
Disbelief crosses Henry’s face as he shakes his head. “There can’t be any way these are them. Are we really considering that the artifacts before us were created by the Olympians and possess such destructive powers?”
“There’s only one way to prove it,” Amina says, voicing what everybody else seems to be thinking. She lifts the amulet and places it over her neck. It looks heavy against her thin frame. “Do we have any idea how this works?”
Henry, Dr. Alarie, and I exchange glances and shrug.
“Try to think of something you wish to know,” Grandad suggests. “How about something simple, like what the Prime Minister is having for dinner?”
Amina considers his suggestion and closes her eyes. “I’m aware this may not be necessary,” she says, gesturing toward her eyes, “but doing it feels right.”
She draws a deep breath and concentrates, her brows knitting as she focuses harder. After a few long seconds, she opens her eyes with an apologetic expression. “I didn’t see anything.”
Dr. Alarie then lifts the civic crown and places it on his head, fixing his gaze intently on Henry.
“I don’t think direct eye contact is needed, Dr. Alarie,” Henry says with a nervous laugh, shifting uncomfortably. “All I ask is that I not be forced to do anything humiliating.”
After a few moments, Dr. Alarie proves no more successful than Amina and removes the crown from his head.
“These look to be replicas to me,” he concludes. He places a reassuring hand on Grandad’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, my friend.”
Henry suddenly perks up, as if an idea has struck him. His gaze flicks between the artifacts and me. “What if we have Clara try to use them?”
I stare at him, baffled by his suggestion. “Why should I try it?”
Henry steps closer to me. “The chest only opened when your blood touched it,” he says with conviction. His idea lingers in the air as I turn to Grandad for guidance.
“It doesn’t hurt to try,” Grandad says.
I look back at the artifacts, knowing deep down that if I don’t at least try to use them, the question of what if will eat me alive.
To conclude whether these are truly the artifacts, I’m willing to try.
I lift the crown and place it on my head.
Surprisingly, it’s not heavy—much like the chest itself.
I scan the room, searching for a test subject.
“You can use me,” Dr. Alarie offers.
I nod and close my eyes, picturing Dr. Alarie raising his hand and slamming it down on the table. My eyes fly open at the loud slap of flesh against wood.
Dr. Alarie stares back at me, panic and bewilderment etched across his face. His palm is flat against the table's surface. The others look at me, reflecting the same level of shock.
“Oh my—” I gape at him, shocked that it worked.
“Was that because of you?” Grandad whispers. Excitement ignites in his eyes as he urges me on. “This time, try something a bit more substantial.”
Closing my eyes, I think bigger, something with more flair.
What would I want to do with such power?
I send out a command, summoning my maid, Emily, as if she were standing beside me in the library, asking her to bring my journal from my cabin.
But after a few moments pass with no sign of Emily, I know it hasn’t worked.
I open my eyes and shake my head, disappointment settling in. “I tried to ask my maid, Emily, to bring over my journal from my cabin. But as you can see, that didn’t quite work.”
“Maybe there’s some kind of limitation to the artifacts’ powers,” Dr. Alarie suggests. “For some reason, it worked when you told me to slap my hand on the table. Now, why wouldn’t it work when you tried to get the maid to bring over your journal? What’s the difference?”
“Emily is somewhere else on the ship, but you’re right here in the room with us—with Clara,” Amina says.
“Then the person the Eudeamon is trying to compel must be within their line of sight,” Grandad concludes.
“And must be willing to be compelled,” Henry adds. “Dr. Alarie essentially gave Clara permission to do what she wished.”
After a thorough round of testing with the crown, we determine that both limitations hold. We also discover that the recipient being compelled doesn’t need to be aware that it’s happening at all.
As the others excitedly theorize the limitations of the knife and amulet, the magnitude of our discovery suddenly hits me.
Petrification sets in, dulling the sounds of their voices.
Unable to engage in their enthusiastic discussions about how this is the discovery of the century, I retreat to a nearby settee and tune it all out.