They call it The Artifact. No one knows where it’s from, nor what it is, nor how it works. But its effects are well documented and fully reproducible.

Any who sees it will die. Those approaching it blindfolded or with eyes closed still hear its whisper, its song, and cannot resist the urge to sneak a glance - just one. And that’s too much.

Those who look upon it even by a single glance will become enthralled, their minds and bodies overcome with The Artifact and nothing else. They speak nonsense, ignore even their friends and family members, and neglect all but the bizarre impulses imparted by the alien object.

Some remain by The Artifact; some silent, some speaking ceaselessly until their voices fade. Some leave; some wandering the near area, others walking off in a straight line until they collapse from exhaustion.

None survive. None has ever recovered.

If the eyes are the window to the soul, The Artifact is the master thief who breaks that window and steals everything concealed within.

Needless to say, it has been quarantined for longer than most civilizations exist. Warnings are posted outside its resting place, a labyrinth built around it to keep away the curious and the idiotic.

Infrequent attempts are made to break in and steal it, either for use as a weapon or mere curiosity. It is said that collectors have offered private contractors billions to obtain it. Yet none has ever succeeded.

None until today.

Luiran walks softly forward, guided by the siren call that whispers and sings through the darkness. The labyrinth is ancient. Many chambers and tunnels have collapsed in the centuries since its construction. But The Artifact knows its surroundings intimately. It whispers instructions, tonalities that shift and beckon, showing the correct path through and around every obstacle.

Luiran walks steadily onward and The Artifact’s lure only grows stronger. Luiran strains against the dark, trying to catch some glimpse, desperate to see what it is that required such secrecy and such elaborate defences.

The darkness remains absolute. There are no lights to show the way, no torches or windows here. Nor would they aid Luiran if they were present.

Closer, closer; hands reaching, then the touch of cold slick material, so different from the worn and ancient stone of the protecting labyrinth. Luiran lifts The Artifact soundlessly from its resting place, the silent song of its call shifting from a plea to a comforting croon. Mine. Safe. Together.

Luiran holds The Artifact close, wrapping it in layers of cloth that do nothing to muffle its gentle humming, and places it carefully into a specially-crafted bag to keep it secure. Then, listening to the gentle directions that offer guidance through the dark, Luiran retraces the path that led inward, returning to the world beyond.

Returning both with Artifact in hand, and soul entirely intact.

If any had seen Luiran’s departure from that sealed and guarded place, they’d call it rightful fear that prompted so stealthy and cowardly an escape. None would guess the trip’s success.

In years to come, no one would believe that The Artifact even existed. When a decade or so later a particularly audacious treasure hunter returned with news that the entire compound was built around an empty depression in the ground, the world would laugh at the millennia-old hoax that had fooled civilizations for ages. Many would claim that of course they’d never believed in such an artifact. It was clearly only a fairy tale, a story about caution in seeking power.

And upon a far mountain, a sect of blind believers guard a secret that the rest of the world is better off never knowing about. A sacred duty, both to their Artifact and to the rest of the world.

If one visited their lower tiers, those open to the public, they may see a single statue of a person carrying a nondescript bundle. Inquiries would be met with smiles and the explanation that this was to honer Saint Luiran, who once carried the fate of humanity.

What that fate might be? None will answer.

They simply hum to a tune only they can hear, and say that some things are better left unseen.