Noxious [DenNor]

16.

It was the kind of morning where even the birds didn't want to wake up. Stillness swaddled the house in a cold and hypnotic sheet, smothering even the most brazen of household noises. Nothing and nobody dare stir lest they awaken the wrath of the day to come.

Nobody, that is, save for Lukas.

In his bed he lay, his face the picture definition of frustration. How could he have been so badly mistaken? He had been certain beyond any shred of doubt that the tomb had once held more than the measly findings they had scavenged just one week prior.

A cube! He thought, not for the first time, with disgust. A ridiculous, little cube!

In his hands, he held tight to the object of his disdain. Nothing had remained of the secrets that he and Arthur had long ago buried. Not a scrap nor trace of them! And was he so surprised, really? That tomb, after all, had been designed to erase things better left unknown, but he had hoped that maybe...

Oh, what use was hope now? In the face of this seemingly useless, granite cube he had retrieved from the floor of the cavern, hope was a far cry from what he was feeling and, to be truthful, what he needed to be feeling. He had spent long hours toiling over the object, prying, chipping away, and just plain staring at. One week and a thousand dead-ended stabs in the dark later, there he was, sleepless, clueless, and ridiculed by Emil and Mathias. 

"So that funky, little cube thing you picked off the ground is supposed to help my situation?" Denmark had asked him on their way back down the mountain.

Feeling more defeated than he had in a long time, Lukas had sighed, his only response a muttered, "I hope so, Denmark."

It had only taken them a few days to realize that Lukas had no idea what he was doing or if the cube even fit into the grand scheme of things. And, just like that, Mathias had taken back to drinking, and Emil had secluded himself to his room.

Lukas sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed as he did.

The cube, roughly the width of his palm, seemed to stare him down almost mockingly. "What are you going to do now, Lukas?" he could almost hear it asking. "Are you just going to leave Mathias hanging? Some hero you are! He can never fall in love now, never look at you the way you want him to without risking your own life and his livelihood."

And then there was another voice, a quieter one, that resonated like noxious gas in the back of his head.

As if he could ever love you.

As though struck by lightning, Lukas jolted to his feet. That was it. He'd had it. He'd had it with the curse, with the cube, with himself! He just wanted it all to disappear. 

Before he could stop himself, he had flung the cube across the room, channeling every scrap of fury, every shred of misery into the force. It met the wall with a satisfying clunk, one he felt wasn't nearly loud enough to satisfy the despair toiling within him.

Loud enough or not, however, it didn't take Lukas but a moment to realize that the force had been enough to shatter the rock, creating a small plume of dust around the floor where it had fallen.

He was coming down from the high of his anger now, feeling in its place a shame and embarrassment. How could he have let his emotions get the better of him like that? What was he? Some kind of child, unable to withhold his emotions even in the sanctuary of his own bedroom?

"Lukas, Lukas, Lukas..."

A voice, scarce more than a grating whisper in his ear, broke through the momentary silence and sent goosebumps up the flesh of his arms. For a moment, Lukas almost thought that, in the midst of his fit, somebody had entered his room without his realizing. But that would have been impossible, as the door had been in his direct line of sight the whole time.

It was then that he noticed that the dust that had risen from the rock had grown, expanded across the opposite half of his room in a thin, almost sparkling mist.

His mouth went dry as the realization set in.

Oh no.

Surely it couldn't be...

He took a step forward, "Wh-"

"So emotional, dear Lukas. You've softened since we last met." The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. There was no blocking it out, no telling where it was coming from.

"I wish we could stay longer and catch up, but there's somewhere that we have to be. But don't worry, old friend; We'll be back."

And, like that, the cloud of dust started drifting in one, sentient mass across his room, towards his open window.

Like a man coming out of a trance, Lukas tensed and then shot forward. "No!" He couldn't release them into the world. Not again.

By the time he reached his window and was able to slam it shut, however, it was too late. It had escaped.

He was forced to watch as the plume drifted in a swirling mist over the driveway and through the forest lining the side of the road opposite the house.

All the while, only one, horrified thought resonated in his mind, repeating like the deranged words of a madman.

"What have I just done?"