A/N: *Challenge number 16* Fear. Not exactly direct but it works…….

Disclaimer:Not Mine......

I wish to tell you the story of how Andrew Ketterly came into possession of a magical substance. This is the story of the magical powder that, if molded into the right form, would take you to another world.

The box, a rich indigo color, inlayed delicately with silver, hummed beneath the Kings hands. He had traveled far and through many perils to attain the contents of this box: this fine silvery powder that, if molded into the right shape, could seize you to another world.

When he had been a young man, he had been sent on a quest, up into the realms of the humans. He had found the powder after much hardship and brought it back down to his watery kingdom.

When he had come back he had set his foremost scientists to finding it's perfect shape. It had taken many years but they had finally discovered it. Now only a little bit of the powder was left, just a boxful.

He fingered the catch of the box again and felt it's familiar warmth between his fingers. He had struggled so hard, so hard to obtain this powder, it hadn't saved his people from it's first plight, it's sinking, but it was about to save them from it's second, more terrible predicament. The city was about to be flooded by water. It had been going on for years, one section of the city would shut down, flooded by the black water that was always above their heads. The next month another section would shut down. Now only a small fragment of the city was dry. All his people were gathered to say their last goodbyes to this ancient city and then take flight to a new world.

The Kings last action was to cast the box beyond the barrier. That barrier was the only thing that kept the water from crushing them, It would soon fail. He then took his wife's hand and she took their sons and soon all grabbed hands with the closest person. The King reached for the beautiful, humming yellow ring that rested on a small pedestal and the Atlanteans were gone.

Years later…..

Over a thousand years later, just as the Romans power was weakening in Britannia, Morgan Le Fay was combing the beach. She had felt a strong magic here. She had to hurry, other, less worthy, children of the arts, would soon be looking for the source of the power.

She searched, and searched for hours on end to no avail. She had almost given up when she saw the corner of a box poking through the sand.

She dug it out, trying her best not to touch it, lest it be some trap. When she finally did lay a hand on it, however, she had to let it drop from her grasp. That box held much magic; a strong, unnatural enchantment. It was only natural for her to fear it.

She never opened that box, it sat on a shelf, her pride and joy for many years, but she never touched it again. She could feel the magic emanating from that box and she feared it. She feared it, so she never got rid of it, at least while it was with her she knew that it could never harm anyone.

With her dying breath, she handed it to her godson, Andrew Ketterly. He knew little of magic, thus she warned him never to open it. If he tried to dabble with that kind of power he was likely to greatly injure himself or others. No, he must never open it, he must never tamper with it. She knew the power in that box; she had felt it. She knew what kind of destruction it could bring.

She also knew that he would open it.

Was it cool? Tell me please.