It was a warm summer evening in the small, quiet Emerald Town. The town was nestled in lush greenery, where cozy houses peeked out from behind blooming trees and colorful gardens. In the backyard of one of these houses, three children played a game they had crafted themselves with boundless imagination.
Lucas and Henry, two energetic nine-year-old boys, were deep in their roles as fearless superheroes. Sophia, their seven-year-old sister, played the essential role of the caring doctor, ready to heal wounds after intense battles against evil. The main villain? An old bag of sawdust their father occasionally used as a makeshift punching bag.
The final battle was about to begin. The boys crouched low, preparing their imaginary weapons with utmost seriousness.
“I’ve upgraded my gloves with laser guns! They’re even better than Iron Man’s!” Lucas declared, fists raised.
Henry brandished a worn-out plastic sword with confidence. “Well, my sword can cut through anything, and it makes me completely invincible!”
Sophia lifted a small lunchbox, her “magic healing kit,” and said with a sweet smile, “After you defeat the villain, come see me. I can heal anything—cuts, bruises, even invisible superhero wounds!”
Their opponent, the bag of sawdust, stood no chance against the combined might of two superhero warriors. For nearly five minutes, the children unleashed their imaginative fury, delivering punches, kicks, and sword strikes. Eventually, they decided the villain was well and truly defeated.
Sophia rushed over, her “magic box” in hand. “Okay, heroes! Time for a check-up!”
At that moment, the back door creaked open, and their father stepped out. He was a tall man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His brown eyes sparkled with kindness and the unmistakable warmth of a man who adored his children.
“Hey, brave warriors! Dinner’s ready. Your mother and I have made pasta—your favorite!”
The kids froze mid-action. In their home, dinner was sacred. No matter how thrilling the game, it paused for the family table. They dropped their weapons and dashed to their father, their little feet thudding against the grass.
As they walked back to the house, Lucas tugged on his dad’s sleeve. “Dad, can you send me to superhero school? I don’t want to go to my boring old school anymore. I want to be like Tony Stark and learn how to be super smart and strong!”
“I want to go too!” Henry chimed in.
“Me too! Me too!” Sophia added with an enthusiastic bounce.
Their father paused for a moment, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I wish I could, but I don’t know if such a school even exists.”
The children’s faces fell, their excitement dimming. Sophia’s lower lip trembled as she fought back tears.
Seeing their disappointment, their father sighed and then smiled mysteriously. “Maybe it’s time to share a secret with you. But… it requires strength, discipline, and a promise that you’ll take it seriously.”
“Tell us now!” the children begged, their little faces alight with anticipation.
But their father simply shook his head. “No, my brave ones. Tomorrow evening, after dinner. That’s my final word.”
The kids knew there was no persuading him when he took that tone. They exchanged excited glances, their imaginations already racing.
—
The next day, their father was absent from home until evening. As soon as he stepped through the door, the children swarmed him like a pack of curious kittens, bombarding him with questions.
“All questions after dinner,” their father said firmly, though a playful smile danced on his lips.
The only way to uncover the mystery sooner was to convince their mother to start dinner early. After much pleading and persuasive charm from three pairs of eager eyes, dinner was served faster than ever before.
Once the last bite was eaten and plates were cleared, their father led them into the backyard. Under the soft glow of the setting sun, he set down an old canvas bag and began.
“You may ask me where I was all day long? The answer is simple. I had to go to a nearby city to the bank to pick up this thing from storage.”
He reached into the bag and carefully lifted out a large, old metal casket.
The casket was silver, its surface weathered by time and covered with a patina that hinted at centuries of secrets. An intricate snake design coiled across the lid, its emerald eyes gleaming with a hypnotic glow.
Their father took a deep breath and began his tale.
“I haven’t told you this before, but when I was in my twenties, I was consumed by a deep thirst for adventure and knowledge. I was enchanted by Indiana Jones movies—his daring escapades, his fearless pursuit of ancient treasures. And like him, I longed to find something extraordinary, something that could prove there’s still magic hidden in this world.”
“One of my journeys took me to the Himalayan mountains, where the air is thin, and the world feels impossibly vast. Tucked away in those snowy peaks was a small village, not far from an ancient Buddhist monastery. The locals spoke of miracles whispered through generations—monks who could heal wounds with a touch, foresee the future, and even manipulate the elements. It all sounded impossible, yet… there was something in their voices, a conviction, that made me believe even a sliver of it might be true.”
“But the monastery was closed to outsiders, a fortress of secrets guarded by tradition and ritual. So, I rented a modest little house at the village’s edge—a creaky wooden cabin with windows that rattled in the wind—and began to gather every scrap of knowledge I could find. I listened to stories told around campfires and shared cups of spiced tea with the elderly villagers who had seen more winters than I could count.”
“At first, I dismissed many of their tales as folklore, wild embellishments of fertile imaginations. But every so often, I’d hear a story—one so vivid, so intricately detailed—that I couldn’t ignore it. What if just one of these stories was true? What if I was standing at the doorway to something incredible, but I lacked the key to step inside?”
“But despite my efforts, the monastery remained sealed to me. As a last resort, I started observing the monastery’s lama. He was an elderly monk who frequently walked the mountain paths, lost in thought, his steps unhurried and serene. For two months, I followed him discreetly, learning his favorite routes and trying to catch even a glimpse of something extraordinary. But he was just… a man who liked to walk. Nothing more.”
“I was ready to give up and leave with nothing but regret when fate intervened.”
The father paused, his voice dropping to a softer tone as if revealing a fragile secret.
“It was an ordinary afternoon. The lama was walking along one of his usual routes, and I was hidden behind some rocks, watching from a distance. Suddenly, I noticed movement above—a massive boulder, loosened from the mountainside, began tumbling downward. My heart froze. It wasn’t just a rock; it was an avalanche of stone and debris, rushing straight for the monk’s path.”
“In that split second, instinct overrode fear. I leaped from my hiding place, waving my arms and screaming at the top of my lungs. The monk stopped mid-step, turned toward me, and froze just as the boulder thundered past him, missing him by mere inches.”
“The dust settled, and silence returned. The monk stared at me—no anger, no fear, just a deep, knowing look. And then, he smiled. It was the kind of smile that feels like a sunrise after a long night. Without a word, he gestured for me to follow him.”
“That day, he led me into the monastery.”
The children were utterly still, their wide eyes fixed on their father as if he were a wizard weaving spells with his words.
“Inside those ancient stone walls, time felt different—slower, heavier, sacred. I saw things, children, things I can barely describe. I watched monks do what seemed impossible: they healed wounds with their hands, whispered to fire, and read truths hidden deep within people’s hearts. But the most important moment came when the lama entrusted me with this casket.”
Their father unlatched the casket and slowly opened it. The children leaned forward, their faces illuminated by the faint reflection of the treasures inside.
A silver ring, plain yet strangely captivating. A gold pendant in the shape of a snake, its eyes glimmering with an emerald’s fire. And finally, a copper bracelet etched with delicate, swirling patterns.
“These aren’t ordinary objects. They are artifacts, imbued with wisdom older than mountains. Each one holds a gift—but also a burden.”
“The ring enhances creativity. With it, you could write stories that change the world or solve problems no one else could even see.”
“The bracelet grants wisdom. It lets you see the unseen, understand the intricate connections between things, and make choices others would hesitate to consider.”
“And the pendant… it enhances healing. Its owner could become a groundbreaking doctor, a scientist who discovers cures, or someone who heals wounds invisible to the eye.”
“Now listen carefully, my little heroes. These artifacts are not toys, nor are they shortcuts to greatness. They come with rules—important ones—and you must follow them if you want to avoid serious consequences. Let me explain them to you, one by one.”
First: “These artifacts cannot create something from nothing. They won’t magically give you skills you don’t already have. Instead, they amplify what’s already inside you. If you want their power to grow, you must keep learning, practicing, and improving your abilities every day. Think of them as sunlight to a plant—you still need to grow your roots and leaves to reach higher.”
Second: “There will come a day when you’ll feel… full. Like a cup that can’t hold another drop of water. That’s when you must stop using the artifact. If you don’t, its power will start to twist you—make you overconfident, reckless, even cruel. Everyone has a limit, and you’ll know when you’ve reached yours. Promise me you’ll listen to that feeling.”
Third: “The power you gain isn’t something you’ll lose when you stop using the artifact. It’s like learning how to ride a bike or swim—you won’t forget it just because you’re no longer holding onto the artifact. Its gift will stay with you, etched into your heart and mind.”
Fourth: “You can only choose one artifact. One path. If you try to use two at once, neither will work. It’s like trying to chase two rabbits at the same time—you’ll catch neither. So choose carefully, and when you do, give it your all.”
Fifth, and most importantly: “The path ahead won’t always be easy. There will be days when you’ll feel tired, lost, or even ready to give up. When that happens, don’t forget this place. Come back home. Rest. Talk to me or your mother. Sometimes, even superheroes need a safe harbor to regain their strength before they set out again.”
The children looked at these objects with admiration.
“Father, have you used them?” asked Henry, his voice filled with curiosity.
“Yes,” their father replied with a nostalgic smile. “I was once like you—chasing secrets and searching for knowledge. I chose to wear the bracelet of wisdom. With its help, I went from being an unknown wanderer to becoming a respected university lecturer in just ten years. It sharpened my mind, helped me make the right choices, and guided me through some of the hardest decisions of my life.”
He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at the children.
“But wisdom, my dear children, can also become a burden. When I met your mother, I realized I had everything I truly needed, and I wanted to focus on making her happy instead of solving the secrets of life. So I took off the bracelet, put it away, and let my heart guide me instead.”
No matter how fantastic it may have sounded, the children completely believed their father.
“I want the pendant!” Sophia spoke first, her small hands clenched into determined fists. “I want to be the best doctor in the world and help people!”
Their father nodded approvingly. “Sophia, you’ve chosen wisely. Your kindness and the healing power of this pendant are remarkable gifts that complement each other beautifully.”
“What about you, boys?” he asked, turning to Henry and Lucas.
Lucas’s eyes sparkled as he pointed to the bracelet. “I want the bracelet! I’ll create something amazing—a suit like Iron Man’s! Henry, will you let me have it?”
Henry nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Yes, Lucas. I don’t want to be an engineer. I’d rather create fairytales or some new worlds—places people can escape to, dream in, and explore. I’ll take the ring. It feels right.”
The children reached out and took their chosen artifacts. For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath as they clutched their treasures.
Their father exhaled softly, pride filling his chest.
“Great! I’m so proud of you all. You’ve made your choices without hesitation, and that’s the mark of true courage. But remember this: the artifacts are powerful tools, not shortcuts. They’ll guide you, but they won’t walk the path for you.”
He leaned in closer, his voice steady but gentle. “Don’t forget the rules I’ve shared with you tonight. Follow them, respect them, and they will serve you well. And always remember—I love you, my children. I will never dictate how to build your lives, but I hope these artifacts will help you achieve your dreams and become the heroes I know you already are.”
The children nodded solemnly, clutching their chosen artifacts as if they held the weight of their futures in their hands.
Time passed quickly…
The first to return his artifact was Henry. At twenty-five, he became the founder of a successful gaming studio that created an immersive online world enjoyed by millions of players.
One day, he visited his parents and said:
“Father, thank you for the ring. It has given me so much, but I’ve realized that all my thoughts revolve around virtual worlds. I’ve started losing touch with the real one. It’s time for me to find balance and build my life independently. I don’t need this ring anymore.”
The second was Sophia. At thirty-two, she dedicated herself to psychotherapy and even pioneered a new approach in her field.
“I want to return the pendant,” she said softly. “I love what I do, and I’m proud of how I help people. But I have so many dreams, so many plans, and even an entire lifetime wouldn’t be enough to fulfill them all. The pendant feels… extra now. It’s time to let it go.”
Lucas was the last. He didn’t become an engineer as he had once dreamed in his childhood. Instead, he devoted himself to politics. By thirty-seven, he had earned a senator’s seat. It was then that he decided to return the bracelet.
“This bracelet has been a great help to me, but I can feel it holding me back now. I’ve achieved so much, and I’m happy with what I’ve done. But I see clearly that I’m following a path that no longer feels like mine. This artifact guided me through difficult times, but now it’s time to move forward on my own—just like Sophia and Henry did.”
His father placed a hand on Lucas’s shoulder, his voice steady and full of pride.
“I am proud of you, my son. I know how hard it is to let go, but you’ve made the right choice.”
When Lucas left, the father slowly returned the bracelet to the casket, where all three artifacts now rested side by side. His wife, standing nearby, watched the ritual with quiet curiosity and a faint smile.
“Do you ever plan to tell them the truth?” she asked gently.
The father’s gaze lingered on the casket, his expression distant and thoughtful.
“The truth… I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. That casket—this whole story—was a hoax. A brilliant little lie I bought at a flea market. But it turned out to be the best investment of my life. That story turned my children into real adult superheroes—not because of the artifacts, but because they believed in them. Look at them now: brave, kind, wise, and endlessly curious about the world. I am nothing compared to them.”
He sighed, his voice softening.
“If I tell them the truth, what happens then? Will they still carry the same confidence in their hearts, or will doubt creep in and cloud their choices? Will they continue to trust their inner voices, or start listening to every passing opinion around them? I trust my children—but I also fear what the truth might do to the fire in their hearts. For now… it’s better this way.”
The father gently closed the casket, his fingers lingering on its cold metal surface. The emerald eyes of the snake seemed to glint briefly in the fading light as if they, too, carried secrets of their own.
At the same time…
Lucas was driving his Mercedes along an empty highway bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the gentle rush of the wind accompanied his thoughts, which gradually formed into a quiet internal monologue.
Father, thank you for the artifacts you gave us. When we were children, we sincerely believed in your story and the magical power of these items. This belief helped us identify our true desires and focus on achieving them. Later, I found the same ring Henry had on eBay, and we started piecing together the truth. We realized the whole story was fictional.
But… it didn’t matter.
Those artifacts still carried magic for us—not because of their power, but because they held the memories of that summer evening. They carried our belief in miracles, in possibilities, and most importantly, in your boundless love and support. You can’t even imagine how many important decisions I made, how many difficult moments I overcame, simply because of the strength I drew from that bracelet.
And yet, I remembered your words—that someday, we’d have to learn to walk without them. That we’d have to return the artifacts and face the world on our own. I was the last one in our little gang to do it, and God, it was so hard.
But I did it. And I’m grateful, Dad. Grateful for your story, your wisdom, and your love. Keep the casket safe, Father. Because someday, our children will need it too.
A faint smile appeared on Lucas’s face as he shifted gears and continued driving down the endless ribbon of road stretching ahead of him. The horizon glowed softly, and somewhere deep in his heart, he felt at peace.
