Minerva's Ghost
Falcon placed his hands on the box slowly, ready for any other trial. But the wooden surface stayed calm...no fire erupting, no bats flying at him trying to take his eyes out...nothing.
Was this it? This was too easy.
The box looked like it could either break or evaporate in another second. carvings on the side of the box indicated more riddles required to open it. But they were, once again, in Latin. He could recognize some words now...who would have known there would be a day when he would know Latin?
With deliberate care, he nestled the box within the inner folds of his jacket, its presence against his chest a palpable weight. What was inside that the demons so craved?
'Stop.' A voice said from directly behind him.