Holder of the Stone Box - Chapter 1

Commissioned by Project Hexium

Written by HikerAngel

Chapter 1: A Turn of Events

Sarah blew a damp, stringy clump of dark hair from before her eyes. The errant strands swung outward, only to return a second later, landing in exactly their previous position—right before her eyes.

Shit, thought Sarah with a frustrated scowl. Just like everything else on this cursed excavation, her hair was choosing not to cooperate.

She’d already dealt with a porter who had made off with half their gear, a local permitting office with a bureaucrat that was determined to milk as many bribes from her as he possibly could, and hired help that had fled the moment she had translated the Sumerian script that marked the entrance to her dig site. She glanced back at the doorway in the strange stone fortress she had been so happy to discover, her eyes gazing past the annoying locks of hair into the back of the stone sign. Translated, it had read:

“Beware the holder of the stone box.”

The thrill of that discovery had long since worn off, however. The realities of attempting a major excavation in modern Iraq had quickly dampened her enthusiasm as the project ground to a near halt, mired in an endless series of problems.

Sumerians had given women far more power and respect than any other culture of their time, and this thick-walled structure seemed to hold the key to those values, referred to by many of the relics that had only recently been uncovered nearby. This was the first dig she’d ever been in charge of, and it was dear to her for a number of other reasons as well. She’d written her dissertation on the role of women in Sumerian society, but the universal criticism of other academics had been that her conclusions were undersupported by archaeological evidence. They had claimed that she was inferring too many conclusions from too few sources.

Since then, the raven-haired professor had been on a mission to prove her conclusions more substantively. She knew it wasn’t proper science to actively seek evidence to support a given conclusion, but she really didn’t care. She was far less concerned about holding true to the scientific method than she was about wanting to earn respect from the male-dominated field. And proving herself right was the best way to achieve that end.

She looked down at mud-covered hands and sighed, setting down her rock hammer and brushes momentarily to tuck her curly hair behind her ear. She could feel drops of cool, silty mud creeping downward behind her ear, the sensation annoying. At least the liquid was cool, however, the brisk descent of the gray droplet a welcome bit of relief from the summer heat. Besides, the grime really didn’t matter. She was already filthy and would need to shower. She supposed another bit of desert mud would hardly do any more damage to her sweat-drenched, tired, dust-covered appearance.

Wiping beads of perspiration from her forehead, she picked up her rock hammer and gave it an overly hard swing, committing another cardinal sin of archaeology—venting her frustration on the find. As the flat surface of the hammer struck, a hollow sound radiated from the ground, sending a violent tremor through the stone surface under her feet.

Alarmed, Sarah began to rise, ready to flee the unstable area, but before she could, it collapsed beneath her modest weight. She rode the stone slab to the floor, a good 5 meters below. When it struck, Sarah felt her knees buckle from the force, her body slamming to the ground face-first, forcing the air from her lungs in a forceful woosh as her body collided with dusty stone.

Dazed, she lay there for a long moment, breathless from the impact, momentarily unable to breathe as she recovered from the shocking severity of the pain that lanced through her bruised body. When her lungs began to burn, however, she finally managed to suck in a ragged breath, inhaling clouds of gritty sand that continued to swirl in the dank, dark air.

As she pushed onto her scraped hands, rising to a kneeling position, the room seemed strangely silent, as if the massive crash of the site’s collapse had stolen all ambient sounds. Sarah examined the cuts on her knees and elbows, the throbbing pain in each of her limbs causing her to wonder if anything was broken. The feel of a trickle of liquid descending her small chin caused her to dab at it with a slender finger. She saw immediately that bright red covered her fingertip as she raised it into view.

Her eyes widening, she pushed her tongue around the inside of her mouth. No missing teeth. Thank goodness for that, at least. The last thing she needed from this ill-fated project was to return home toothless. She was already more than likely to return jobless from failure and penniless from the locals’ incessant insistence on bribery.

She licked at her lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood as she delicately probed at its source. As she rolled her tongue over her bleeding mouth, however, she noticed something directly in front of her.

On a pedestal, in the center of the room she now found herself in, was a stone box. The side that faced her was engraved with ornate artwork. She couldn’t remember having ever seen anything so exquisitely crafted in all of her research on Sumerian artifacts. And it looked to be in pristine condition, apparently preserved phenomenally well for several millennia in this hidden chamber.

Grunting in pain with the effort it required, Sarah staggered to her feet, feeling her battered body protesting loudly. But she paid it no attention, her focused eyes unwilling to allow anything to distract her from the object of their unflinching gaze.

She lurched forward, her joints not working properly, but fortunately able to carry her where she willed. When she reached the pedestal, she pulled the box from its surface, tracing her fingers over its intricate carvings as she turned it carefully to examine it with awestruck eyes.

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. The craftsmanship was like nothing she’d ever seen from the time.

And even better—every sculpted inlay on every side of the box was a picture of a gorgeous woman engaged in various displays of power. This could be exactly the piece of evidence she needed to support her academic conclusions. This could be the sort of discovery that turned her dissertation into a full book. The kind of discovery that would allow her to make a name for herself among her smug, stodgy peers!

Feeling her lips part in an involuntary smile, she found the edge that marked the top. She dug her fingernails into the crack and pulled it upward.

Her jaw dropped as she looked inside. The presence of something more powerful than she’d ever imagined was palpable as it erupted from within. It communicated to her in a voice that seemed to emanate from within rather than without. Her brain rattled from its overwhelming reverberations as she attempted to understand the ancient Sumerian in which it spoke.

***

Emily released the final note of the song, lowering her raised hands with a wide smile, knowing she had nailed this audition. Her hands dropped to her hips, and she rocked back onto her heels on the stage, her freckled cheeks flushed with excitement.

“So what do you think?” she asked of the director, who was seated in the center of the darkened auditorium. Normally, she wouldn’t dream of being so forward as to pose such a question seconds after finishing her audition, but she was emboldened by her success. She couldn’t have asked for a better reading, or a better performance of the music. She had even nailed the final note that had been giving her so much trouble in her own rehearsals.

“Thank you,” asked the director, his stoic face betraying nothing of his opinion. “Have you been cast in any other productions?”

“Yes! I have!” Emily said gleefully. “I’ve been cast as the lead in Louise’s latest.”

“Really?” said the production’s producer, chewing on a pen in the seat right next to the director. “I heard that some new, super-young, super-pretty phenom got that part.”

New, super-young, super-pretty phenom? thought Emily, her smile fading slightly. A brief pang of concern rippled through her before she chased the unwanted thoughts away. She had been dating Louise for the last two months, and Louise had guaranteed her the part. This producer must just have inaccurate information. He must be confusing Louise for someone else.

“No, I have it. Louise told me I did,” Emily corrected, forcing her lips back into their previous smiling position. This time, however, her smile looked strained rather than genuine.

“Hmmm. I heard that new Alexa girl got the part too. Louise couldn’t stop gushing about how she was better-looking than most Hollywood starlets!” said the director to the producer.

“Really?!” said the producer, his voice growing more animated. “I’ve got to meet this girl! Is there any way we could get her in to audition for us? There’s nothing better for ticket sales than snagging the next big up-and-comer...”

“Let me give Louise a call. Maybe she can arrange a meeting,” the director replied excitedly.

With every exchange between the two men, Emily’s heart sank a little further. Was it possible Louise had recast the role behind her back? Was it possible that her girlfriend was this enamored with some nineteen-year-old stunner and had offered the girl the part?

Emily felt her eyes becoming glassy with the thought, her smile disappearing completely as she watched the two men in the center of the auditorium excitedly gesticulating about some other actor as if she weren’t even in the room. Her shoulders sagged as she shuffled off the stage to the dressing room.

The defeated redhead plopped into a seat before the brightly lit mirror backstage, eying her appearance critically. Only 29, she had thought that she was years away from worrying about fading looks. Her lightly freckled visage and bright red hair had been attractive enough for Louise two months ago. Had she really changed so much since then?

Emily leaned toward her reflection, seeing the merest hint of developing crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, the tiniest little lines forming at the corners of her lips.

Fuck.

Still not wanting to believe the men in her audition, thinking there must be some mistake, she fished her phone out of her bag and pressed Louise’s number.

“Hello?” came the director’s tinny voice.

Emily wasn’t feeling particularly diplomatic right now, so she just blurted her question without preamble. “Am I still cast as the lead in your next production?”

She was met with silence on the other end of the line. The complete lack of sound seemed to weigh twenty tons as it dropped Emily’s stomach to her feet.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Em,” came Louise’s quiet voice. “You see, there’s been a development.”

Emily felt her shock transform into anger faster than the speed of sound. “Development? What the fuck, Louise! You promised!?”

“Well, I didn’t promise, exactly. I think you just assumed—”

“Fuck you, Louise!” Emily screamed in frustration, mashing the button to end the call, knowing in that instant that her relationship with the cerebral director was over. Louise was probably in bed with this new girl right now!

Damn it!!!

Emily threw her phone to the floor, her heart constricting further as she heard the telltale crack of its screen.

But as her rational side attempted to whisper reason into her consciousness, her emotions decided that she didn’t care. She felt like destroying things right now, and she was going to indulge that desire as fully as she was able. Lifting her leg, she stomped her heel down onto the already cracked device, hearing a satisfying crunch as the broken glass pierced the electronics beneath. When she had finished grinding the phone into the floor, she pulled back a leg and launched a hard kick at the mangled device, sending it flying into the wall with one last, loud crack. As it clattered to the floor, the light within its shattered screen died.

Kind of like her fucking relationship with Louise just had.

With strength that belied her diminutive, barely five-foot form, Emily swung her bag violently over her shoulder and stormed out of the dressing room. How had this day gone from so great to so utterly wretched in the span of five agonizingly painful minutes?!

Still reeling from the rapid turn of events, Emily kicked the door open to emerge onto the bustling street, the sound of passing cars and swiftly walking people blaring to life.

She had gone from having one—maybe two—lead roles on the horizon to zero in less time than it had taken her to audition for the latter part. All because of some young blonde bitch she had never even met!

And Louise. Traitorous, backstabbing Louise.

Emily continued down the street, barely paying her surroundings any attention as she fumed over her lover’s betrayal. Her birthday was tomorrow. The big 3-0. And her career was suddenly in shambles again.

Thirty years old and with nothing to show for years of struggling and countless auditions. Maybe she should quit acting, as her father had always told her to. Maybe she should become a fucking accountant or something. Or if not that, some other boring but stable career where she could at least count on bringing home a steady paycheck.

Emily felt the sting of tears in her eyes, but she fought them back. She didn’t want to give Louise the satisfaction of making her cry. Instead, she turned her attention toward the store fronts she was passing. Maybe she would get herself a birthday present. Maybe that would make her feel better.

Distant eyes passing over hordes of useless junk in the display windows, she continued forward, only half-heartedly believing in her own plan for improving her mood....

...until she saw it.

A strange, stone box.

It instantly drew her attention, narrowing her previously unfocused eyes as they zoomed to focus in on the intricate carvings engraved into its sides. Before she knew it, she had entered the shop, dropping to a bouncing crouch before the object in the display case, feeling her heart leap with the thought of possessing the small object.

After a long moment of careful examination, she rose, spun on her heel, and marched toward the counter. “How much?” she asked the elderly woman, who stared blankly at her from her hunched perch atop a creaky stool.

The old woman’s creased lips opened to pronounce two words with careful precision. “One thousand.” Her lips came together again the instant the second word had left them, leaving the rest of her expression completely unchanged.

Emily shifted uncomfortably, both from the woman’s odd demeanor and the price. That was a month’s rent! And likely without any jobs on the horizon, she was going to need that money for rent.

She turned, giving the stone box another yearning glance, the emotion of the day still roiling deep in the pit of her stomach.

Fuck it.

Her head whipped around, and she gave the old woman a defiant look. “I’ll take it.”

The woman showed no reaction at her pronouncement, aside from a dark gleam in her eye. Neither did she say anything.

Emily handed over her debit card with a trepidatious gulp, and the old woman ran it without a word. Once the transaction was completed, she hobbled slowly to the display case and extracted the box with tremulous hands, delivering it carefully to its new owner.

Giving the old woman a curt nod, Emily hustled out of the shop, the shopkeeper’s intent gaze making her uncomfortable. She slipped the object in her bag and hurried home, for some reason wishing to examine it further in private rather than in public.

When she arrived at her studio apartment, her eyes narrowed as they instantly spotted Louise’s jacket, left draped over a chair after her former lover’s last visit. Her lips curling downward, Emily swept back her fiery tresses and tore the jacket from the back of the chair. She opened the window and flung it out, watching with satisfaction as it drifted to the street below, the coat’s fabric tearing as it was promptly run over by a car.

Closing the window once again, she brushed off her hands as if to rid herself of Louise’s memory, then focused her attention on her bag. She opened it, withdrawing the stone box from within, the object feeling strangely warm when it should be cool to the touch.

Exploring the exquisite craftsmanship with her fingertips, Emily brought the box to eye-level. Depictions of women transforming, casting spells, and performing incredible feats adorned every side of it. Near the top, a small crevice indicated that the top section could be removed. Her eyes filling with wonder, Emily placed a fingernail into the crease and pried it off.

As the lid pulled away from the rest of the box, a sultry voice issued from behind her. “So you’re the one…”

Emily whirled, her eyes widening as they found the towering, impossibly voluptuous figure in the center of her apartment. One side of the woman’s head was shaved, the other framed by long, black hair with blue highlights. Her azure eyes were lined by bold, dark lashes that were lowered slightly as she looked down on the stunned actor.

She wore a tight, skimpy black outfit that looked like a one-piece swimsuit with cutouts on either side. The sheer fabric could barely contain her voluptuous breasts and stunningly curvaceous ass. Fishnet stockings, stretched high to attach at the hip, flowed downward, pulled taut over toned, creamy thighs and rounded, silken calves. Her lower legs were tensed from the position in which her absurdly tall, shiny black platform heels placed her feet.

As the strange woman spoke, a lock of her shimmering hair fell over one eye, causing the woman’s smile to fall in annoyance. She blew it away from her face, only to have it return to exactly the same position. Quickly, she brushed it to the side, tucking it behind her ear in a swift motion.

“Unlimited power, and I can’t even keep my fucking hair from doing that,” she grumbled, her eyes quickly darting to find Emily’s shocked visage. “Not without the direction of the box’s owner, anyway.”

The box slipped from Emily’s fingers, tumbling to the floor as she continued to gape at the newcomer’s outrageously sexy appearance.

The woman placed a hand on her well-formed hip and gave Emily the once over with a sly smile. “But I’m so glad you’re a woman.”

Emily stumbled backward until her lower back wedged itself against the kitchen counter. She allowed her wide-eyed gaze to drift upward over the gorgeous woman’s full breasts to stare into her bright blue eyes, the shade of her irises matching that of the striking highlights in her hair.

“Glad I’m a woman?” Emily found herself saying, attempting to understand what she meant at the same time she attempted to understand how the woman had appeared in her studio apartment while evading her notice.

“Oh, yes,” the woman smiled mischievously. “I’m Sarah. And I’ll be your goddess for as long as you own that box.”