The Things We Fail to See

Lugal and his grandfather stepped in front of the Enmai Mausoleum, with Ohr standing in front of them, bowing his head firmly.

“It is with great honor that I welcome the Head of the Enmai Mausoleum of Ontsu Village back to his home. May Kaeku-no-Mai forever watch over us.”

Lugal and his grandfather both nodded their heads in return. With Lugal having spent countless hours making sure this day would come, he was eager to finally find out what lay behind the mausoleum doors. As he gazed upon the towering structure, his eyes falling upon the statue before it, an ominous shadow poured over him, as if being chided by the spirit of Kaeku-no-Mai.

Meanwhile the warden was nowhere to be found, choosing to remain at his position guarding the mausoleum gate.

Stepping up to the door, Lugal watched as his grandfather wrapped his hands around a rope that hung from the ceiling all the way down the center of the doorway. “These doors are sealed shut with a preservation script casted upon the lock that this here rope is attached to on the opposite side. It is one of the most unique scripts in our family history.”

As he spoke, he beheld his gaze upon the rope, watching his hand grasp its beige and white threads. “The preservation is perpetual, constantly reactivating itself over and over again, meaning even if someone did remove it, within less than a second it would be cast again.”

Turning his gaze towards Lugal, he finally revealed, “There are over a thousand reverse preservation scripts that exist, when you grab a hold of this rope, you must identify which one of those scripts will need to be used to deactivate the preservation long enough to open the door. It requires tremendous amounts of knowledge and focus, boy. I advise you pay attention closely.”

Closing his eyes, he began chanting to himself, his clench on the rope growing tighter and tight with each passing second. Soon, his eyes shot open, with his hand making a unique symbol before uttering, “Modore!”

Lugal was mesmerized by his grandfather, who, looking upon him now, was far from the old man that spend half his mornings doing stretches outside the shack. Instead, who he now saw standing before him, was the coolest grandfather he could ever ask for.

Releasing the rope, the grandfather marched towards the door, placing his hand firmly on each side. Ohr stood quietly off to the side, simply observing as everything unfolded.

Pushing his hands forward, the doors slowly began to swing open, their mass felt through the weighted heft of their movement.

With the doors now open and revealing what lay locked behind for hundreds if not more than a thousand years, all three men stood on edge. They knew not what to expect. Would it be a corpse, a vacant room, or the presence of a god? What they did know was that it would change the way they viewed the world in some way or another, and now, that reality was present before them.