Professor Ethan Bell

Professor Ethan Bell shook his head sadly and closed the box with a finality he had never expected to feel. It was as if something had left him, as if the overwhelming drive and purpose which had filled him ever since the moment ever since he had lifted the blade and seen the parchment beneath it had suddenly deserted the 46 year old Professor. Years spent learning the ancient language and deciphering the cryptic ritual the ancient document described. Procuring all the exotic materials and locating and purchasing a home for his family on a convergence of ley lines. Everything had been perfect. He knew his chanting of the incantation had been meticulous and the knife had plunged into the solid concrete floor to the hilt at the apex, the air had strummed with ozone and untold power.

Then… nothing. The great spirit of power and wisdom had not appeared. Dispiritedly Professor Bell finished cleaning up the remains of the ritual and looked at his watch, shaking his head as he realized it was long past time to go to bed. Looking back he spotted the blade still in the floor and took a step towards it before a sudden wave of confusion filled him and he turned and wearily climbed the stairs. As the lights switched off and the basement door shut the jewels on the cursed blade’s hilt glowed faintly in the darkness.