Han Yu stretched his back with a groan, his eyes sore from hours of reading ancient texts and studying maps that could probably give an architect a migraine.
The cave was quieter now, the faint flicker of the illumination talisman casting a dim glow over the mess that he had, by now, somewhat accepted as home. He was about to move on to the history books stacked neatly on the shelf when something else caught his eye, a small box sitting unobtrusively in the corner.
He had noticed it before, but with everything else competing for his attention, he had simply ignored it. Now, however, as his gaze lingered on it, he realized that it stood out more than he first thought.
It was clean.
In this cave of carnage, where dried blood and rot seemed to coat every surface like paint, the box looked completely untouched. Its wooden surface was smooth and dark, polished to a soft sheen. Even the faint layer of dust upon it seemed almost deliberate, as if protecting it rather than defiling it.
