Heirs Unapparant | A Miraculous Origin Story

Chapter 6: Changing of the Guard (تغيير الحرس)

Don't forget the--

Huh?

Nicholas blinked, reading the note, and then stared and read it again. Open this when you are alone. Well, there was absolutely nothing terrifying about that, then. No evil plagues or prank confetti exploding from the lid the moment he dared to lift it. That would be a cruel prank, but no one he knew would do that to him. Not, at least, anyone he was aware of.

To the boy from the hospital.

So, it had to be someone who knew he'd rushed in to save his parents. Someone who had been there at the time of the explosion. That narrowed his small list down to almost zero and left him with one very possible--yet, entirely crazy--possibility.

It had to be from the mystery hero.

But that only brought up two more questions: how had the dragon-man found out where he lived and what was in the box? Along with the more obvious; were the contents of the hexagon even safe? He knew nothing about the mystery man; who he was, where he'd come from. This was certainly not someone who had ever been on the news or Nicholas was sure he would have heard of him.

So, who was he? And why would he leave something for a kid he didn't even know?

And what was all this nonsense about a pendant?

Ain't no way was he going to wear a necklace! Absolutely not! Not happening!

Already he could hear the anxious footsteps mulling just below, hesitating, unsure whether to make an approach or a tactical retreat. He took a deep breath, settling his nerves as he fingered the miniature box. It was now or never. Sink or swim, or something like that.

Okay, maybe he was overdoing it a little. Besides, what harm could come of just opening it? Really?

If it was something horribly terrible, he could quickly slam the lid closed again and chuck it out the nearest window to get smashed under a car or something. No harm, no foul, right? Problem accounted for and handled?

Okay. He sucked in a long breath, fingers delicately brushing the lid of the box as he felt along the crease for a latch. It's just a box. An old box. It's not a nuclear missile. It's just a hollow box and that's all. What are you expecting; a grenade?

He was just being plain ridiculous now.

A creak from the hall.

And he was running out of time.

Here goes nothing then.

Summoning his courage and simultaneously questioning his sanity, he carefully took the lid and pried it open. He gritted his teeth as some of the splinters caught and required a little more force to pull free. He took great care to preserve the carvings on the outer layer. He didn't recognize them, however, leading him to the conclusion that they were not French. They looked extremely fantastical--unreal even.

Inside, the shadow of the box fell away to reveal...

...a silver-stranded necklace with a squarish golden pendant.

Great.

He recognized some kind of marking on the jewel itself, but he had only a split second to register what he was seeing as his vision was suddenly enveloped in golden-silver light and something encased in lightning swelled from behind (inside?) the necklace.