Chapter Twenty-Four

When one envisions a treasure trove, the mind conjures images of gleaming chests brimming with golden coins and sparkling gems, outshining the stars in a pitch-black sky. It's a sight that beckons with a seductive allure, promising untold riches and mysteries. Ones that can seldom be obtained.

One could imagine Midas forever transformed into a golden idol, a tragic monument to his own greed. His eyes filled with sorrow as he watched over the cause of his downfall and observed mankind's further avarice.

Demetrius was captivated by the vision of pristine chests that seemed to call out to the soul's greed. The room was so radiant with gold that it barely needed a candle to light it.

He wasn't expecting to be met with a grim cave with rickety chests that seemed more splinter than board.