Archmagus System

Morning light filtered through the canvas of my tent, casting blurry shadows across the ground. I flexed my sore hands, the scrapes from yesterday still smarting. I brewed a cup of coffee over a small portable burner, savoring its warmth. Each sip settled my nerves... briefly. Hamish stomped in before I finished the mug, his face tight with anger. "You going to tell me what happened, or do I have to beat it out of yeh?"

I let out a tired sigh. "I was going to wait until you'd had your coffee. But fine. You need to hear this." His scowl deepened as I recalled every detail of the stranger's attack. I told him about the grip like a vice, the slam against the wall, and the cold threat that still echoed in my head. Hamish's eyes narrowed. "I should have gone with yeh! That bastard wouldn't have gotten close."

He cursed under his breath, pacing back and forth. "Next time you see that son of a whore, you tell me. You hear me? You tell me!" I raised both hands in a calming gesture. "I will. But I'm not going back there until I have to." He snorted, kicking at a discarded soda can. "You'll have to eventually. But you won't go alone this time."

With that, he marched out of the tent and started hacking at the weeds around camp. Despite his anger, I knew the guilt was eating him alive. He wanted to protect me, but we both realized how sudden and brutal the encounter had been. I finished my coffee in silence. My mind replayed the stranger's words... his threat to leave things buried. If anything, he'd only stoked my curiosity.

Once I'd cleaned the scrapes on my palms, I grabbed my gear and headed to the dig site. Hamish followed behind me, shovel in hand, silent determination burning in his eyes. The Highlands greeted us with a cool, damp breeze. Mist still clung to the grass, swirling around our boots with every step.

At the horizon, rolling hills slept under a veil of gray clouds. I knelt down by the roped-off area where I'd been painstakingly unearthing fragments... broken pottery, twisted bits of metal, nothing extraordinary so far. But I felt something calling beneath the surface. Hamish stuck the shovel in the ground. "I'll give yeh a hand. Not letting you face anything alone today."

I showed him how to sift the soil gently, how to watch for subtle changes in color or texture. He listened carefully, despite the frustration simmering in his voice. He paused, straightening his back. "Robert, you remember old Magda in Ullapool? She always warned me about 'hidden curses' in the earth."

She used to say her uncle dug up some ancient site near Inverness and came back haunted. I shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Folklore usually has a seed of truth somewhere, but it's often blown out of proportion." Yet a flicker of unease stirred inside me. I remembered my father telling me stories about relics that bound themselves to unsuspecting souls.

As a kid, I thought they were just spooky tales meant to keep me in bed at night. He'd speak in a hushed tone, eyes dancing with candlelight. "Some artifacts call out across time, Robert. They choose who will find them." I used to laugh off his warnings, but those words echoed in my memory now.

Was this site one of those "chosen" places? Hamish let out a shaky breath. "All I know is, that stranger meant business. Let's just be careful, aye?" "Agreed," I said quietly.

We resumed digging, working in steady unison. The soil here was oddly cooperative, as though wanting us to uncover its secrets. My trowel scraped on something solid, sending vibrations up my arm. A pulse of excitement surged through me... yesterday's attack had turned my curiosity into defiance.

I brushed away more dirt, revealing a dark surface beneath. Hamish's eyes widened as he dropped to one knee. "What is that?" "A chest, I think," I murmured. "And it looks… untouched." I could hardly believe my own words.

The wooden chest beneath the soil bore no signs of decay or rust. It was as if time had forgotten it. Hamish ran a hand across his scalp. "Must be some trick. Maybe it's modern." But as we cleared more dirt, Celtic spirals and runes came into view.

They matched the capstone carvings I'd found when I first arrived. My heart pounded. "These symbols... they're centuries old. But the wood looks brand new." A raven cawed overhead, breaking the silence.

I glanced up to see it perched on a broken pillar of stone, dark feathers blending into the gray sky. Something about its gaze made my skin prickle. Hamish noticed it too, shifting uncomfortably. "Never liked ravens. Too clever by half."

I forced a grin. "They're just birds, Hamish." He frowned, not entirely convinced. "Come on, let's get this chest out."

Together, we eased it free from the dirt. It was lighter than expected, as though it had been waiting for someone to lift it. Tiny motes of dust sparkled in the morning light. I set the chest in the open, the mist curling around it like curious fingers.

With gentle hands, I tested the latch. It refused to budge at first. "Stubborn," I muttered. "But not surprising if it's ancient." Hamish stood to the side, shovel at the ready, as though expecting trouble to leap from the box. "Be careful, Robert."

A memory of my father's voice rose in my mind again. "Some things aren't meant to stay hidden forever." A tremor ran through me. I braced myself and gave the latch another firm tug. This time, it clicked softly, releasing its hold.

Slowly, I lifted the lid a fraction of an inch. Warm, golden light spilled out... soft as candlelight, yet bright enough to illuminate my face. I felt my pulse hammer in my ears. Hamish drew in a sharp breath. "That's… that's not normal."

I swallowed hard. "Nothing about this is normal." The raven cawed again, louder now. We both turned, startled by the sudden sound. The sky remained empty except for a single dark silhouette circling above.

Footsteps crunched behind us. I whipped around, heart pounding, but the dig site was deserted. No one stood among the misty outlines of half-buried stones. I turned back to the chest, a strange mixture of awe and dread coursing through me.

I'd only opened it a crack, yet it felt like I'd crossed a threshold. Hamish stepped closer, eyes darting between me and the chest. "Robert, maybe we should wait. You don't know what's in there." He reached out as though to close the lid.

But I held my ground, voice trembling with a mix of excitement and fear. "I have to see. That stranger tried to keep us away. There has to be a reason." Hamish hovered, uncertain, shovel still in his grip like a protective talisman. "Your call, mate."

I pushed the lid a bit further, breath catching in my throat. I could see shapes inside... something metallic glinting in the soft glow. My mind raced with possibilities. A swirl of air swept across the site, sending a chill straight through my jacket.

My vision tunneled on that faint, golden radiance within the chest. I felt like a diver standing at the edge of a dark ocean, about to plunge deeper than ever before.

Hamish reached out, gripping my arm. "Robert! Think about this. We don't know what we're dealing with." His voice snapped me back, if only for a moment. The glow flickered, as though responding to my divided attention.

I forced myself to breathe. Steadying my hands, I glanced at him. "Whatever's in here… it's too late to turn back." Hamish opened his mouth to argue, but the words never came. Footsteps again, rustling through the mist.

We both spun around. Empty air greeted us, laced with tension. The raven's caw echoed from somewhere unseen, a low, haunting note in the gloom. My nerves were stretched taut.

Hamish's voice came out in a tight whisper. "Robert, we're not alone, are we?" I shook my head, feeling the weight of invisible eyes on us. The memory of the stranger's assault churned in my stomach.

He'd warned me to walk away. Now, with this chest in front of me, that warning felt bigger than a simple threat. "No," I said hoarsely. "We're not alone."

My grip on the lid tightened. That golden light pulsed once more, as though urging me to open it completely. Hamish looked torn, trapped between wanting to protect me and not wanting to face whatever lurked nearby.

I closed my eyes for a beat, inhaling the crisp Highland air. My father's old tales nudged at the corners of my thoughts... maybe all those bedtime stories had led me here. Blinking hard, I focused on Hamish. "Cover me if anything shows up."

He gave a stiff nod. "Aye. Just… be quick about it." The world seemed to hold its breath. My heart hammered as I prepared to lift the lid again. If this was the moment everything changed, I was powerless to stop it.

From behind us, footsteps rushed forward. Hamish turned, raising the shovel defensively. "Robert! Wait!" My stomach lurched. I froze, half bent over the chest, golden light dancing across my face.

My hands moved on their own now, I wasn't going to wait. Hamish was gazing out of the pit we had dug out for our excavation. His tone revealed his dislike for the situation. "I swear I heard someone running up to us... There's no one here. I think?"

He wasn't sure. If I could speak, I would have said that it was a spirit moving past us, and entering the chest of golden light that I was opening up. A banished soul, returning to its origin. But I could not speak. I could only stare at the impossible creation of this light.