The Staff

The Staff

The Treasure

In the middle of a desert with pyramids surrounding, a trail of dust follows a jeep speeding down a path of tire tracks. It screeches to a stop in front of a large canopy.

The jeep door opens. A brown boot steps onto the sand. Out steps a tan man with black curly hair, wearing short khaki shorts, a tan button-up shirt with the top undone to reveal his chest, and a brown fedora. He walks toward the Canopy.

Another man steps out of the jeep, dressed like the first. His short brown hair and rectangular glasses frame a pale, wiry face that looks unaccustomed to the desert heat.

"Ahmed," the man with glasses calls, his words carrying a distinct Egyptian accent.

Ahmed turns and replies with the same accent. “Yes?”

“We recovered no artifacts this time. Are you sure you want to show him-”

Ahmed raises a finger, cutting him off. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rock.

“A rock? Francesco, calm down. We’ve been searching for days. One more won’t change much.” He walks toward the Canopy.

Francesco hesitates, then follows.

Under the Canopy, a heavyset man with a mustache, a dark blue shirt, and a tan fedora greets them. “Find anything today?”

Ahmed holds up the rock. “If this counts, then yes.”

The man smacks the rock out of Ahmed’s hand. “Do you think this is a joke? Our company is losing sales! We need treasure... something to sell to those greedy rich folks who’ll pay for even a speck of gold!” He turns his back. “And most importantly, so we can get out of this desert.”

Ahmed puts a hand on his boss’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll search further tomorrow. I found a spot on the map that’s still untouched.”

The boss nods, slightly pleased. “Fine. Bring me something worth our time.”

Ahmed smirks and heads for the jeep. Francesco trails behind.

The next morning...

Ahmed drives the jeep through darkness, headlights across endless dunes. Beside him, Francesco yawns, eyes heavy.

“The sun will be up in an hour,” he says, rubbing his face. “And we still haven’t found anything.”

“Patience, my friend,” Ahmed replies with a grin. “An hour is enough to find even the hardest treasure. Soon, we’ll be the greatest treasure hunters in the world.”

The jeep suddenly jerks—then slams to a stop. The back end lifts, sand flying. Both men scream as the jeep crashes back down.

“What was that?” Francesco shouts, clutching the handle above his head.

“Probably hit a pit.” Ahmed opens the door, stepping out with a flashlight.

Francesco groans. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t speed. Second time this week.”

Ahmed kneels beside the front wheel and shines the light. The tire is sunk halfway into a hole. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Francesco joins him. “We’re not seriously trying to push this out, are we?”

“We've gotta atleast try,” Ahmed says, bracing his hands against the hood. They push. The jeep doesn’t move an inch.

Francesco sighs and opens the passenger door. “We could just call for backup.”

“NO!” Ahmed’s tone turns desperate.

Francesco freezes. “Why not?”

Ahmed steps closer, sweat glistening on his face. “Because we need to find something great. Something that makes us better than the rest.”

“This isn’t a competition, Ahmed. It’s our job,” Francesco insists.

“I don’t CARE!” Ahmed turns furious. “I want to be the one to find treasure. I WANT to find it.”

Francesco just shakes his head. “So what do we do now?”

Ahmed shines his flashlight toward the dark horizon. “We walk.”

“Walk? Thousands of miles?”

“You can stay here and let the buzzards eat what’s left of you,” Ahmed mutters, walking forward. Francesco sighs and jogs after him.

The sun starts to appear over the dunes of sand, revealing an almost beautiful sunrise. The two men drag their feet through the sand, exhausted.

“At this point,” Francesco pants, “we should just walk back to the jeep. Call for backup and—”

“Was I not clear earlier?” Ahmed snaps, gripping Francesco’s shoulders. “We’re either going to find this treasure and be great… or we’re going to stay losers forever.”

Francesco frowns. “Do you even plan on giving Ralph the treasure when we find it?”

Ahmed chuckles, patting Francesco’s back. “Do you think we’d work this hard just to hand it over? No, my friend. We sell it ourselves. Be rich. Be free.”

Francesco forces a nervous laugh. “Right…”

Suddenly, Ahmed’s eyes widen. “Look!” He points ahead. Something wooden is standing out of the sand.

Francesco squints. “Is that… a house?”

Ahmed doesn’t wait. He sprints toward it, cheering.

“Ahmed, WAIT!” Francesco runs after him.

The structure looks ancient. Half-buried, half-broken. The roof has caved in. The door lies on the porch, sand spilling through shattered windows.

“I wouldn’t want to live here,” Ahmed jokes, stepping onto the porch.

“Should we really be here?” Francesco asks, hesitation in his voice.

“Why not? You only live once.” Ahmed kicks some sand and walks inside.

The house is empty. No furniture, no walls... just a hollow shell.

“This is strange,” Ahmed mutters.

“Very strange,” Francesco echoes. “Nothing here. Let’s go.”

Ahmed raises a finger. “Quiet. There might be a secret.”

“Like what? There’s nothing in here but sand.”

Ahmed glances down. His eyes widen. Faint engravings run along the wooden floor, half-buried in dust. He kneels and blows the sand away.

Words appear, carved deep into the wood:
“Only through blood is the truth revealed.”

Francesco reads it aloud. “What does that even mean?”

Ahmed shrugs. “If it’s here, it must mean something.”

“Or nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

But Ahmed isn’t listening. He picks up a shard of glass from the floor and slices his palm open.

Francesco gasps. “What are you doing?”

“Only through blood is the truth revealed,” Ahmed repeats as blood drips onto the carving.

The floor glows bright blue. The ground shakes violently. Francesco stumbles, shouting, “What did you do!?”

A stone pedestal rises from the floor, dust pouring off its sides. On top rests a wooden staff. Smooth, curved like a blade at the end, and crowned with a glowing blue crystal orb.

Ahmed stares in awe. “We just found our treasure.”

Ahmed steps closer to the pedestal, eyes fixated on the staff.
Francesco stays near the door, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t go near that thing. What if it’s a trap?”

Ahmed laughs softly. “A trap? No, my friend. This is our treasure.”
He runs his fingers along the polished wood. “Smooth… well-crafted.”

Francesco inches forward, curiosity getting the better of him. “It has a curved edge,” he says, tracing the end with his finger. With a sudden sting, he jerks his hand back. A bead of blood falls onto the blade. “And it’s sharp, too.”

Ahmed studies the design. “Maybe a weapon?”

“Or a curse,” Francesco mutters. “Let’s just leave it, Ahmed. We don’t know what it is or who it belonged to.”

Ahmed grins and wraps his hands around the staff.

The moment he lifts it...
The air distorts. The walls stretch outward. Time seems to pause. Ahmed can’t move or speak. His vision tunnels until everything snaps back to normal.

He gasps for air, sweat dripping down his face. “What was that?”

When he turns, Francesco is standing still... Eyes open, body frozen.

“Francesco?” Ahmed steps closer. No response. The staff’s crystal glows brighter, swirling with dark blue light. Ahmed stares into it… and freezes.

Inside the crystal, Francesco is moving.

---

The Void

Francesco stands alone in the ruined house, breathing hard. “Ahmed? Where’d you go? This isn’t funny!”

He steps outside only to see nothing but blue. A deep, glowing void stretches endlessly in every direction.

“What the...” He backs up, terrified.

Meanwhile, Ahmed is still in the real world, staring into the glowing orb. “Francesco, can you hear me?” He hits the crystal with his palm. “What’s happening to you?”

He kneels beside Francesco’s motionless body and shakes him. “Wake up!”

Inside the crystal world, Francesco shouts, “Ahmed! Where are you?” His voice echoes through the blue emptiness.

Ahmed slaps Francesco’s body, desperate. Then, closing his eyes, he suddenly sees Francesco in front of him - alive, panicked, but unaware of his presence.

“Francesco!” Ahmed yells, reaching out.

Francesco doesn’t react. He walks straight through Ahmed.

Ahmed stares at his hands. “Did he just… walk through me?”

He opens his eyes, back in the real world. Closes them again - back in the blue void. Two worlds, one overlapping the other.

---

The Possession

“Maybe I should call for backup,” Ahmed whispers.

Then a voice booms from behind Francesco: “Backup has arrived.”

Francesco spins around. It's Ralph, their boss, who stands in the doorway, grinning under his fedora.

“Ralph? How did you? There’s no outside! It’s just blue!” Francesco shouts.

Ralph chuckles, stepping closer. “You’re confusing me, son. Outside is outside.”

Francesco retreats a few steps. Something about Ralph feels wrong. His grin is too wide. His voice grows deeper, distorted.

“No wonder Ahmed left you here to rot,” Ralph sneers. “You’re a know-it-all. A burden.”

“W-What are you talking about?” Francesco stammers.

Ahmed, standing in front of Ralph and Francesco like he's actually there, yells, “Francesco! Don’t listen to him!”

He lunges forward at Ralph, then suddenly, he’s inside Ralph.

Ahmed gasps, looking down at his hands. He’s seeing through Ralph’s eyes now.

He looks up at Francesco.

“Francesco, it’s me! Ahmed!”

Francesco backs away, terrified. “You’re not Ahmed! Stay back!”

“Listen to me! It’s really me!” Ahmed holds up his hand, desperate to prove it. “Please.”

Francesco pauses... Then his eyes widen. He coughs violently, blood splattering onto the sandy floor.

Ahmed looks down, his (Ralph’s) hand is pointing right at  Francesco’s chest, where blood is soaking his shirt.

“No…” Ahmed steps back, horrified. “Francesco…”

Francesco collapses to his knees, gasping for air. “Ahmed…” he whispers before falling still.

Ahmed screams as the world shatters around him—blue light folding inward like glass.

---

The Birth of the Staffmaster

Ahmed snaps back into the real world. The ruined house. The sand. Francesco’s lifeless body at his feet.

The staff’s blade inside Fransescos' chest. Ahmed pulls the staff out with disbelief as it is dripping with blood.

“No… no, no, no!” Ahmed drops to his knees, shaking Francesco’s shoulders. “Francesco! Wake up!” He presses on his chest, trying CPR, shouting his name. Nothing.

Finally, Ahmed stops. His eyes flick to the staff. The orb glows brighter than ever, swirling like a living storm.

He stands slowly, walking toward it. “What are you?” he whispers.

The crystal hums, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

“How much power do you hold?” Ahmed reaches for it, hesitates, then grips the staff tight.

A grin creeps across his face.

In the reflection of the orb, his eyes flash blue.

The Staffmaster is born.