Talib, a Moroccan researcher, goes in search for an item of great antiquity known as The Box. A vessel of mystical power that can shape reality according to the user's will. Talib wants to prove the existence of this item and uncover its secret, and...
For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? - Mark 8:36 KJV
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The charged air buzzed against their skin and prickled the tips of their ears. Loaded with electricity, it crackled and undulated throughout the spatial fabric with every step.
The tension here was palpable.
Instantly you could tell, here, was a place of power.
Talib felt it; his entire body reverberated a whirling energy. He was certain his trusted companion Saleem, shared the same feelings. It was too obvious to miss. Power oozed from this place like maple, sap tinging the air with its own sweetness that beckoned the heart's curiosity. There was a certain density about it that felt like water, yet was elusive to touch—like a heavy form of air. He wondered for a moment if there was a device that allowed him to harness this strange ethereal matter, but he didn't have time for that.
I'm sure it's here; it has to be, thought Talib.
For six years they scoured numerous sacred places across the earth to find it but to no avail. There were many rumours of its various secret locations and the many exchanging hands that presided over its protection throughout the millennia, but none of them proved fruitful.
The roughly carved mountains of Sinai offered empty hands, Mount Kailas of Tibet was only a shell of its former self. Jerusalem had merely false promises, and the monks of Meteora had useless whispers. Three months turned into six, and six turned into twelve, and yet nothing proved helpful. For a year the trail had run cold, and the search for The Box neared a premature death. Saleem began giving up, but Talib never wavered. He was determined to prove to those snobbish professors at the university, that there was something a step beyond the current fabric accepted as reality, and that there was a hidden layer beneath the known foundations of the corporal world.
The Box or rather its contents would prove him right. According to legend, it was called the Impuritas. An omnipotent mystical armament possessing the power to ascend one to godhood. Talib believed that if he were to find this vessel of great antiquity, there would be no choice but for them to listen to his findings.
After all this time, in spite of numerous trials, his search had finally come to an end.
"Who would have thought you were here in Axum all along," he said, standing near a tall stone Abyssinian obelisk engraved with wethering lines of Aramaic. "In the Orthodox chapel no less." It was almost a kind of mystical cliche.
But there was something odd about this space, Talib quickly realized. The sights and sounds of the outer city had faded, as a light, violet haze replaced his vision in all directions.
"Talib, Talib!" Saleem cried as he spun around bewildered. "Where are you? I can't see you."
Talib could barely hear the muffled sounds of Saleem calling out to him.
