A Carved Relic

A dark wooden box sat silent on the lowest shelf. I watched it from across the rug, measuring the shadows. No threat emerged. Stepping forward, I reached out and traced the heavy brass latch. The lid lifted with a dull creak. Inside, nestled in crushed velvet, rested an ornate brass herb grinder engraved with ancient-looking geometric rings. I gripped the cold, knurled metal and turned the dial. It spun with a heavy, satisfying hum. A fine green dust clung to the grooves. I have secured this artifact; it belongs to my perimeter now.