Prologue: Death

Prologue: Death

An old man, pale and haggard, furrowed his brows in discomfort as he slowly raised himself into a seated position with the help of his electric hospital bed.

Meanwhile, his nurse was busy helping him appear at least somewhat presentable for his imminently-arriving granddaughter, who was on her way to disturb his agonizingly long radiation treatment recovery.

Just as the nurse finished doing her best to comb his frighteningly sparse white hair, the hospital room door burst open, none too gently, to reveal the slim and slightly tanned appearance of his granddaughter, who looked to be somewhere within her early twenties.

Her floral dress fluttered against her long legs as she walked into the room with a gift bag in hand, heels loudly clacking on the tiled floor.

The sight of the swaying gift bag nearly dragged a long sigh from the old man.

Instead of sighing though, his well practiced smile lit up his wrinkly face as he ignored the shooting pain coursing through the remnants of his facial muscles. He chose to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe its for somebody else.

Hi Grandpa Oliver. Happy birthday! The young girl exclaimed happily while plopping herself onto a chair next to the window. She placed the gift bag on the table confidently. However, the slight signs of guilt in her expression did not escape from Olivers discerning eyes.

This time, Oliver did sigh.

The nurse smiled playfully at him. She then took the opportunity to exit the room in order to give the two some privacy.

After watching the nurse leave, Olivers smile fell slightly.

He very softly replied, Thank you, Abigail. I really hope that gift in front of you isnt for me. You know I dont like you all giving me gifts.

Especially if Im the one whos going to be paying for them in the end.

Abigail quickly waved her hands in surrender.

I know, I know! Dad already gave me the spiel. But you have to trust me this time. I know youll love this!

Abigail began digging in the bag before Oliver could make further protests. He gave up arguing as he began internally calculating the dollar amount this money-sucking gremlin would beg for this time.

She pulled out a nearly headsized ball of bubble wrap and paper, which she then began to tear open as she spoke with a smile.

You know that I know how much you love your ancient artifacts. My Field Research mentor brought back a large batch of artifacts from our dig site, and he decided to give away a few of the common and unidentifiable ones.

She got rid of the remaining paper, revealing a surprisingly beautiful, intricately carved, ancient Arabic oil lamp. Under the midday sunlight, abstract patterns could be seen densely decorating its golden surface.

After just a short moment of dubious observation, a sparkle began to shine within Olivers previously cloudy eyes.

Abigail caught sight of Olivers growing interest and continued her introduction with growing confidence, There aren't any identifiable characters on the outside, and even though its metallic structure looks very similar to gold, it certainly isnt real gold. Otherwise, there was no way I couldve taken this away. It isnt brass either, of which most of these types of oil lamps are made of. But I trust my eyes. Theres certainly something valuable about this lamp!

She animatedly continued as she gently passed the lamp into Olivers shakingly outstretched hands, I figured something was special about it, so I brought it home yesterday in order to check and see if there was anything hidden inside. However, regardless of what I tried; I couldnt get the top to open! It has to be sealed shut with some sort of industrial-strength adhesive. I even got my boyfriend to smash the damned lamp with a sledgehammer! Not even a scratch! The thing is strangely resilient.

After examining the oil lamp a few times over in healthy skepticism, he allowed himself to believe at least most of what his granddaughter had told him.

He was no expert, but he had seen his fair share of valuable relics in his 87 years, even directly purchasing the ones he couldnt bear to part with.

Just like his sharp-eyed granddaughter, he also noticed the uniqueness of the lamp, corroborating her claim that it truly wasnt made of gold, despite its incredible likeness.

The most interesting thing was that he could not identify what metallic substance the lamp was composed of at all!

Surely not brass, nor bronze, or pinchbeck

Metals and alloys flew through his old, yet agile brain, hastily considering many possibilities as to the origin of the strange lamp. In the end, the only conclusion he arrived to was that he had never seen nor heard of this metallic substance before in his lifetime!

Is it some sort of extremely complex alloy?

It couldn't possibly be an undiscovered metal... could it?

At this moment, Oliver felt like he had regained some youth, pain from the chemotherapy and radiation therapy slipping away like it had never existed!

Abigail suddenly clapped her petite hands to interrupt Olivers train of thought, You can tinker with it after youve recovered, Grandpa. The most important thing for you to do is make three birthday wishes!

Oliver halted his movements, his body harshly reminding him of its current unfavorable condition. Pain renewed and somewhat emotionally deflated, he glanced up at his granddaughter in bewilderment.

However, the one thing he could always count on throughout his life seemed to be failing him now.

He felt that he had learned a heartbreaking lesson after all these years.

He had never been truly happy, but he learned to find satisfaction in his ability to overcome the relentless obstacles in his life. Whether it was hunger when he was young, poverty when he was middle-aged, or the cancer he had contracted in his old age, he continued to push on because he felt that one day, he would free himself of every troubling circumstance that bound him.

And once he was free, all the pain, endurance, and heartbreak would have been worth it.

But now, as he looked down at his failing body, he suddenly could no longer tell what he was fighting for. Even if he beat cancer, he was still on the last legs of his life.

He would eventually have to witness himself lose every single thing he had worked hard for. Maybe not now, maybe not due to cancer, but, sooner rather than later, it would surely happen.

He might never experience the feeling of liberation. His time was almost up, and he was tired.

Before he could begin to pry himself from his self-deprecation, a fierce and bone-chilling exhaustion, unlike anything he had ever felt, began to rapidly build within himself.

He felt increasingly that something was going very wrong.

He turned his head, intending to reach towards the help button. However, just when he began to summon the effort to move his arm, his attention was once again stolen by the oil lamp.

The oil lamp was glowing!

More specifically, the intricate patterns carved onto its surface were shining with dazzlingly bright golden light.

Could I be dreaming? How is that lamp?

As he stared at this astonishing occurrence, he noticed that as every second passed, the inexplicable light grew noticeably brighter.

On the contrary, he also couldnt help but register that as the light grew brighter, his consciousness seemed to grow fainter.

A shocking suspicion sprouted quickly in his heart, one that he thought he was insane to even consider. Even though the correlation was there, the very thought was so incomprehensible that he immediately tried to dismiss it. But the longer he observed the shining oil lamp, the more confident he felt.

This damned lamp is feeding off of me! What sort of wicked thing did that unfilial Abigail bring me!

But at this moment, Oliver solemnly realized that he had missed his last chance to call for help, as he lacked the energy to even open his mouth to speak, let alone lift his limp arm to press the emergency button.

He could only feebly watch in a daze as the oil lamps mysterious, soul-sucking light continued to build, spreading across the entire room.

A few moments later, the light seemed to reach a climactic peak, nearly blinding Oliver, whose thoughts had gradually begun to slow.

Crack!

Suddenly, a splintering sound rang throughout the room, causing Olivers faint awareness to dissipate in an instant.

His mind fell completely silent.

The blinding light disappeared, revealing a fractured lamp with fissures covering its entire surface area. It was vibrating against the table at dizzying speeds until, unexpectedly, it stilled.

Bang!

In the next instant, the lamp exploded violently, sending shards flying through the air, their trajectories aimed towards every corner of the room.

But before the flying golden shards could touch anything, they suddenly stilled in space, as if spacetime halted itself exclusively within this small hospital room.

Like stars in the bright night sky, the shards suspended in space released one last burst of light, shining small motes of brilliant golden rays down onto Olivers unmoving body for a few brief moments.

Gradually, the shards transformed into glittery golden motes of light before dissipating into nothingness, as if the lamp had never existed.

Silence filled the room.

Olivers half lidded eyes remained blank, motionless, lifeless.

Eventually, the electrocardiogram monitoring Olivers heart transitioned from a steady beeping sound to a piercing, drawn-out long tone.

Oliver had suddenly and incomprehensibly passed away.