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I turned around to sit back down at my desk when I nearly knocked into Professor Snowden again. “Professor!” I yelped, jumping back. “Uh, sorry for yelling in your face. I didn’t mean it.”
He stuck the artifact in my face. “Does the Key look different to you?”
I blinked at it, leaning back so I could focus on the piece properly. He wasn’t making it easy to inspect it. “I’m not sure, professor. I’m not an expert on it, but I suppose it looks a little different.” There was an extra piece jutting out in the middle that hadn’t been there, but it still looked the same. I mentioned my observations.
He studied it once more, feeling it this time rather than trying to see it. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. There is a little piece. Something new, just here, am I right?”
I nodded, trying to humor him and wondering if this find would make him happier or angrier.
“In all my years, I had never seen this Key change. Not once.” He turned his attention back toward his desk. “Do you recall anything different today?”
The knot in my stomach tightened anew. “I cleaned your desk, and then dusted your paperweights–I mean, your artifacts.”
Snowden’s face lit up. “Oh! Did you use a special solvent or acid?”
“No, just a microfiber cloth. I didn’t want to ruin any finish or polish,” I said.
“Bring it here. Let’s have a look.” His voice held the excitement of a child on Yule's morning. He took the cloth from me, and cleaned the Key, asking if he was doing it right.
“I guess,” I said. “I wasn’t doing anything special, just being careful while dusting it.”
“Of course, of course,” he mumbles. I probably no longer existed to him at this point. His entire world revolved around that damned labyrinth project. This was the first time I saw him interested in the Key.
Maybe because he had given up on it? I could understand that.
I went back to my desk, using this opportunity to pull up my portion of his study, and have him sign off on this as my capstone assignment. And, if he was in an especially good mood, have him sign off on my application for the Coventry internship this summer.
Professor Snowden cheered in triumph at something, and he was at my side. I’d never seen him walk so quickly. And his eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen. Was this what he looked like as a happy person?
“Look, it has moved once more! Another bit of thorn has appeared here,” he said, pointing to another new addition, “and the metal here is smoother than before, with a bit of engraving on this stone.” He offered it to me to look at it.
As I turned it in my hand, the stone portion of the Key shifted somehow, adding engraving that hadn’t been there earlier.
“What kind of cloth is this?” Professor Snowden asked.
I shrugged. “It’s normal. I don’t even have any cleaner on it.”
“Fascinating,” he said, motioning for the Key again. When I handed it back to him, he started polishing it once more, as if he tried to coax a genie from a lamp. He used every bit, and like he trained his students to do, observed and recorded any unusual reactions. He was rewarded when the artifact shifted again, this time into a truly beautiful configuration.
It went from a malformed piece to a spiraling art form. Like sacred geometry in action. “There must have been some kind of solution or liquid, because it responds to this part of the cloth best,” he said. “There seems to be a darker stain here that feels a little damp.”
Oh. My blood. “I think I know what happened. I accidentally cut myself on the corner there,” I said, pointing to the Key, “and when I noticed it, I used the cloth to stop the bleeding until I found a bandaid.” I held up my finger with the bandage wrapped around it.
“Interesting,” Professor Snowden said. “I had tried all kinds of magical solutions, liquids, even blood. All kinds of blood. But it did nothing before, so I stopped.” He focused on me now, his eyes blazing with a curiosity that made my heart drop to my stomach.
My heart hammered within me. Something wasn’t right. “Well, I see you need to focus on your work, so I’ll just leave you alone–”
Professor Snowden’s hand gripped my wrist. He slammed the Key into my palm and forced my hand to curl around it. He squeezed my fist hard. The sharp edges of the Key bit into my soft flesh, and I cried out.
“What are you doing?” I said, trying to gain control of my hand. The frail old professor had a grip stronger than steel. “Let go of me! You’re hurting me!”
“Pain is a necessary payment for such things. Death, birth, life…pain is always part of the process.” As he spoke, the meek and bumbling voice gave way to something larger, something older, beyond normal human life times. This voice was primal, as if it used to rival dinosaurs and other much larger creatures.
My hand was numb where he gripped it. I was sure that it fell from my body. “Please,” I begged.
The Key in my hand shifted, and bits of it unfurled like ivy, wrapping around my hand until it became a gauntlet of sorts made of an intricate lacework of metal, stone, and wood. It should have been impossible, yet here it was.
“Yes!” Professor Snowden bellowed savagely. “The Key!”
