From her vantage point above the city of Opet she watches the masses of tourists ebb and flow like a tide. They think the city is a relic, its occupants long deceased and the houses turned to shops for their perusal. They are so wrong, its facade. It was decided long ago to let it fall into disrepair and it’s people to fade into myth and legend, to protect all the races of this world.
There is a polite noise behind her and she turns to see her handmaiden stood in the doorway, holding up the old dumb phone used for emergencies.
She takes the phone and reads the message, once again wishing she could ward her home against the modern radio waves. Glancing at the tourists again, it’s their fault, there would be uproar if their brain-sapping devices didn’t function.
“I think we have another Collector, deal with it” along with the approximation of where the moving Sphere was last stationary.
Another Collector already? It was only a matter of two and a half decades since the last one and he’d almost been successful. It amused her how the relations team had dealt with it; making a movie about a Temple of Doom to pre-emptively dispel any rumors that may have surfaced.
The Spheres needed to remain in their allocated places, guarded in secret by each fae race or magical community.
The occupants of Opet had chosen the best way to hide them was in plain sigh but their history forgotten. Turning their city into a museum had been fairly easy, just don’t touch it for a few millenia.
Explorers and archeologists took the clues they’d left and made a reasonable story about what happened. Even if the time frames really didn’t work. Certainly others came closer to the truth, but were called conspiracy nuts, despite their theories matching the evidence better. The “experts” telling the story didn’t want to be embarrassed and make an entire history that had been taught in schools for decades to be wrong.
But enough dwelling on the past, they’d returned and closed the pyramids to the public for “safety reasons” and restored them to working order. Having left their Sphere hidden with local loyal followers it was returned to its place in the pyramid and protected there.
Somehow remnants of the truth had emerged again and she must take action. She’d been called on simply because she was the closest of the Guardians.
Down to one of the display cabinets she goes, removing her weapons stored in plain sight and replaces it with a photograph and sign preporting the item removed for cleaning. Next was some slightly more modern clothing, her regular clothes that the public assumed was simply a costume, wouldn’t be appropriate.
Modern being a relative term. If she walked down a western city street looking like this, attention would definitely come her way. Here in the desert country a wide hat and a mask against the dust wouldn’t draw a second glance.
Once she was changed, it was time to go on the hunt..
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Featured on the SecondLife Community Blog on Tuesday 3rd May 2022.