The Box

Prologue

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Quadrant Nimore-1

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On the Planet Davindore

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Klomon hall, leading to sector two was empty. The glass floor created a whispering sound as Vandra glided toward the doors of Chamber 12, where the members of the council would be waiting. 

The doors to the chamber whisked open, and Vandra stepped in, took a knee, bowing before the council, then stood at attention, waiting to be confirmed. The six members of the council hovered above. The room was in the shape of a dome, the entire structure a blinding white. A small window at the dome’s apex, stars glowing brightly in the sky.

“You may approach,” one of the members said. The command was delivered telepathically, and Vandra was not familiar enough with the members to say, with any certainty, which one had delivered it. So, as not to offend, she nodded at them all, then stepped forward.

A light flashed and a long, curved table appeared, its surface smooth, lit from within so that it resembled their moon, Aminia. The council members floated down to the table, their expansive wings, with their breathtaking colors, folding behind them as they settled. 

“You are Vandra, of the House of Velsor, is that correct?”

“That is correct,” Vandra answered, staring straight ahead, still uncertain which of the members she should be addressing.

“And you are acquainted with what is required? What is being asked of you?”

“Yes.”

“And you are of the age at which you can lead your team, is that correct?”

“That is correct.”

“And you will be taking?”

“Two others, as is customary. Pel and Ketke. Both belonging to the House of Olvior,” Vandra replied.

The council knew the answers to the questions being asked, but it was their duty, the process they were expected to follow when a Davindorian had been selected to deliver the Box of Enlightenment.

“And you are a captain at the Velsor Academy?”

“Yes.”

Vandra’s wings fluttered, a nervous habit.

“And you are prepared for the journey?”

“I am.”

“And your destination, it has been selected?”

“It has,” Vandra answered.

“Your vow, our vow as a people, must always be adhered to. We are messengers, deliverers of enlightenment. We must choose correctly, the rest, up to those we have chosen. You understand, yes?”

“I do, yes.”

“And you believe that you have made the correct choice? Chosen a people worthy of the gift?”

“Yes. I believe I have.”

The council members clustered together, speaking amongst themselves. Their words, a buzzing in Vandra’s head. Indecipherable.

When finished, they resumed their positions behind the crescent table.

“Vandra of the House of Velsor, you are approved. Your companions, Pel and Ketke, as well. May your choice of receiver be a wise one. May you return safely from your journey”

A box appeared on the table as if by magic. The Box of Enlightenment. The gift to be delivered.

The council members, wings expanded, rose, bowing their heads in unison. This was Vandra’s cue to approach the table and take The Box. It was smaller than she expected, smooth, the markings of her people on its surface.

The Box vibrated softly in her hands. She held it aloft, head bowed, and waited to be released.

“You are released, Vandra of the House of Velsor. May your choice of receiver use the gift wisely.”

Vandra cradled The Box to her chest, turned and made her way out of Chamber 12, her steps echoing softly through the great dome. Her wings fluttered with excitement, the words of the council running through her head.

May your choice of receiver be a wise one.

May your choice of receiver use the gift wisely.

DBL

But Vandra’s choice was not wise, the gift not used for its intended purpose.   

Upon arriving in the new world, and greeting the First Inhabitants, Vandra explained, to a small gathering of the clan's elders, the purpose of her visit, and the importance of The Box. That the clan would choose one of their own to use The Box to move forward and backward through time. That The Box would provide Enlightenment to others, and that these individuals would use this enlightenment to move their civilization in a continuous forward motion. Each act, building upon itself in a positive, and enhancing, direction. 

However, Vandra warned, the opposite was true as well. That if the choosing were wrong, then a negative effect could befall their people, their civilization, their new world. That chaos and mayhem could ensue.

Vandra explained that it was her duty, and that of her two comrades, to show the First Inhabitants how The Box was to be used. That they would stay and do so until it was time for them to return home. At which time the First Inhabitants would inherit The Box. 

The Visitors, as Vandra and her comrades came to be known, were not versed in the art of confrontation. Their entire existence, their purpose, was centered around the sharing of The Box. To provide others, throughout the universe, with its gift of enlightenment, of the ability to shape their world, for the better. It was who they were. Who they had always been. 

And they had always selected well. The Box accepted and used for its intended purpose. So, it came as a great surprise when the First Inhabitants chose otherwise. 

The words of the council echoed through Vandra’s head.

May your choice of receiver be a wise one.

May your choice of receiver use the gift wisely.

Vandra’s choice had been an abject failure. 

She and her comrades were driven, violently, from the land under the mountain. Chased back to their ship, barely escaping with their lives. The First Inhabitants, in possession of The Box.

As the ship took to the sky, something foreign welled up inside of Vandra, something foreign to her people. Anger. It swelled, multiplied, an entity all its own. Physical in nature. Her face flushed, insides tight, an itching throughout her body. Vandra could feel it in her comrades as well. Hear it in their thoughts. And she swore, at that moment, that they would someday return. They would return and retrieve what was rightfully theirs.        

 

***

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The Box was a gift to the First Inhabitants, a gift from three faraway Visitors, whose task it was to establish a connection between worlds. To share a gift of enlightenment. To forge a friendship. But the First Inhabitants felt they had all the friends they needed, and truth be told, they weren’t very good at sharing. It was a rough world and existence relied more on taking than giving. So, they took. They took The Box and sought to do away with the visitors. The Visitors were fortunate enough to escape in their flying craft, the First Inhabitants swearing that if the Visitors ever returned, they would eliminate them permanently.

They placed The Box, which had shone a bright red for the Visitors, but had yet to do so for them, in a temple, which was really nothing more than a small cave set in the mountain that watched over the tiny stretch of land they called home. The Elders of the village, who had been presented with The Box, told their people that The Box had been forged from the mountain, a gift from the great Gods above, for their allegiance and diligence, though in truth, the First Inhabitants did not possess such words as allegiance and diligence, and instead said, “...for being good, and not bad.” 

The Box became a great source of pride, and the First Inhabitants took to praying before it every morning. Soon word spread, and as with most words that spread, sometimes the words that were shared enlarged the story, making it much bigger than it truly was. Such was the story that surrounded The Box with its mysterious numbers and symbols on its top. 

Any one of the First Inhabitants would tell you that the small cave in which The Box resided, resting on a flat stone, was no fortress. In fact, The Box was not guarded at all. The First Inhabitants didn’t see the point in guarding an item that all in their village worshiped. Surely, no harm would befall it. But the story of The Box had spread, and the First Inhabitants' neighbors, on the other side of the mountain, heard rumors of a power beyond imagining. That, among other things, The Box had the ability to cure sickness, and replenish the wild game so vital to their survival. They heard that the First Inhabitants, under the mountain, had turned into men of great strength, and that their women bore children of magical abilities. Such was the power of The Box. Or so they believed.

And it wasn’t long before they became obsessed with possessing The Box for themselves. It was all they talked about.

So, they gathered, organized, planned, and finally marched upon the First Inhabitants. 

When they arrived in the valley under the mountain, they encountered neither men of any greater strength than their own, nor women who bore children of any magical abilities. Instead, they found a group of people, small in numbers and stature, unprepared for the attack that ensued. So much so, that not a weapon was raised in defense, nor a word uttered in defiance. The neighbors on the other side of the mountain, fearing the great strength of the men and, even more so, the magical abilities of unpredictable children, coordinated their attack before the sun kissed the sky. The First Inhabitants, dreaming their dreams, were slaughtered– every man, woman, and child– as they slept.

And what the First Inhabitants had once taken, was now taken from them. 

Their neighbors, who until that morning's events had always been peaceful, welcoming, and agreeable, now possessed The Box. They returned it to their side of the mountain and placed it in their temple. A larger cave with a larger flat stone, on which The Box rested.  

And like the First Inhabitants the new owners knew nothing of The Box’s true purpose. That, of course, did nothing to prevent fantastical stories of its magical powers to spread far and wide. Stories which held no truth to them whatsoever. Stories that led to a series of conquests, one after the other, in which one neighbor acted unnecessarily un-neighborly toward another. And so on, and so on. The Box eventually making its way across the land, over many mountains, and into many caves, until one day, several years after they first made contact, the Visitors returned. 

To retrieve what was rightfully theirs.