The Ancients' Seal

I remember fondly how my parents used to tuck me into bed and tell me all their adventures in the deep seas. The rare creatures they’d find, the ancient ruins they’d stumble across—those were tales I treasured each day. I dreamt of setting sail across the oceans and delving into its mysterious depths, but those ambitions were crushed by the currents that crashed into my life when I was just eight years old. My parents were found washed ashore; they had lost their lives with no visible signs of a cause of death.

Ten years have passed since that day, and I’ve taken up archaeology in hopes of investigating my parents’ deaths. After their passing, my grandparents took me in, and Grandma in particular had a tale of warning for me: she said she was once part of a team of mountain explorers who stumbled upon a mysterious metal jar. Words of an ancient language were engraved into the object, which seemed to be near impossible to destroy—something that would prove to be fatal to almost everyone but Grandma, who escaped only because she dared not give into its temptations.

Grandma said the jar housed a spirit that promised to grant any three wishes the bearers of the jar would ask, but what they did not expect was that once the final wish was granted, the spirit would then imprison the bearers’ souls within the jar itself. Grandma said there was something even stranger about the spirit; an emptiness behind its eyes that cloaked the ill deeds it seemingly wrought without a second thought.

Grandma said she threw the cursed jar into a ravine and never looked back, but she had later learned of similar cases around the world. She said she just knew the jar was on the move, and that she wished she had told Mom and Dad about the dangers that potentially lay on their path. No one had ever believed her words, so she had stopped trying to convince others long ago. However, when Mom and Dad died, she thought she had no choice but to warn me. Those words only bolstered my need to seek that jar. I kept it a secret from her, but I sought its whereabouts day and night amidst the projects I had.

After a year of searching, I finally stumbled upon a lead. The most recent deaths that matched the profile were abroad, but not far from where I lived. I told Grandma I had an assignment abroad and booked a flight a day later. It was not long before I found myself in possession of the cursed jar I had searched for all that time. My body began to tremble as the spirit appeared before me in a burst of black mist; I clenched the jar in my hand and stepped forward, taking in a deep breath as I prepared for what was to come.

Then the spirit spoke: “Bearer of the Seal of the Ancients, you may ask of me three wishes.”

“And what happens once my wishes are concluded?” I asked.

The spirit sighed, its eyes shifting away into the distance. “You know, yet you are here… If you wish to bring back your loved ones, it is far too late; and if you wish to destroy this artefact, know that it is impossible by any human craft or sorcery.”

“Then I can at least see that no one else suffers because of you.”

The spirit’s demeanour lightened, its voice growing softer. “I wish I had the same foresight back then that you have now. So many souls lost… All for my curiosity.”

I was unsure of what to say, but I knew I had to put an end to the countless mass murders the cursed jar brought upon the world. “I wish you exile yourself to a barren land untouched by life for all eternity.”

The spirit smiled and nodded, its eyes showing a glimmer beyond the emptiness it bore before. “Thank you…”

Those were the last words I heard before the spirit disappeared into the same black mist from earlier, and with it disappeared the jar that was in my grasp. My body felt lighter as I watched the shroud dissipate into the air. It was finally over…