Intention

`Intention

by Kim Eggleston

The universe provides, right? Fake-spiritual people like to say that, and while I'm usually more of a cynic, in this case I have to admit: Someone up there must be looking out for me. 

**

I couldn't believe my good luck. I held the thing I'd coveted for years in my very own hands. The engraved wooden box had been in my family for generations, and now, it was mine. For a minute, for a year, I didn't know how long. That, I hoped, would be up to me, if I could solidify my plans to guard it from my vicious siblings.

Its previous owner, my uncle, had disappeared under less-than-crystal-clear circumstances more than a year ago. As you can imagine, without proof in the form of a body, his estate was quite the bone of contention among my family members. Some of them were clueless about the box, but all of them knew he had some real valuable stuff hidden away in his huge old house.

I'd been plotting my procurement of the box ever since, biding my time until my uncle's protections were off the house. There was that incident with my brother Henry involving a freak natural gas explosion, but the thing with my half-sister Ellen didn't work out so well. She's had wards ranging from house-vermin-strength all the way up to demon-level ever since. (She's really giving me too much credit there; I'm not good enough to bind any demons, yet.)

So it must have been the universe providing a clear path for my intentions, when instead of a body, his crotchety old lawyer sent out letters declaring that after a period of a year, he had instructions to read out my uncle's will -- and I was the inheritor. All the contents of the musty tower were mine to dispose of among the family members as I wished. And I wished to keep them, thank you.

In the cutthroat world of wizards and apprentices, you don't come across free access to an old-timer's secrets and possessions too often. Usually, it's more blow-yourself-up-trying than anything else. So I intended to take full advantage of my uncle's library and workshop, and chief among those things was this box. Tied to our family's bloodlines, I wasn't even sure Ellen could have used it, but I just like covering my bases. The only thing to worry about now was my remaining sister, Lydia. She had gone dark after my uncle went missing--nobody had heard from her in months--and everyone pretty much assumed she had something to do with it.

Still, I was safe enough in the circle of power inlaid (in marble, rich old bastard!) on the library floor for the time being. I steeled my will to face what was coming, and opened the box the traditional way, making a small cut across the base of my palm and dripping my blood on the lock. The blood soaked into the wood, strangely disappearing as it did, and the lock opened with a tiny click.

There was nothing in the box.

I howled and raged and just barely restrained myself from throwing the box to the floor. Gradually, I got control of myself and gave the box a thorough inspection. No almost-visible symbols, no spells that I could detect, not so much as a crumb of... wait, what was that? In the back hinge of the box, there was a lonely blue thread. I gently pulled it out, and as I did, it unfurled itself into a handkerchief-sized cloth. Brief hope was immediately dashed by the golden message embroidered in a fine hand on it by magic:

"Too late, Edwin. You can look behind you, if you'd like to see what's coming for you."

Damn Lydia... How did she get in here before me? Afraid, but unwilling to not see, I turned.

I had a brief second to be sorry I did.

**

A/N: Sorry I'm so far behind! Will catch up eventually :) ~Kim