The next case held a dark, shimmering shroud. In some angles of light, it was dark, without a hint of light. In others, it gleamed with bright intensity. Its title was “Lailah’s Shroud”. The footsteps barely stopped to examine the case, moving to the second to last display quickly.
The pedestal held a dark chunk of white-blue ice, deep in hue. The footsteps came to a total halt in front of it, long enough to skim the informative paragraph beneath the label, “A Piece of Satan’s Hell.” The description illustrated the innermost circle of Hell, which has been seen by few and fewer have been able to recount any details of it. A further note added that this ice would never melt and that it was a miracle that anyone had recovered it for the museum to showcase. After a significant pause, the footsteps moved on, almost reluctantly, to the last case.
The object inside this case was a plush maroon velvet cape, lined with a dark brown, nearly black, fur. The base of the pedestal was captioned, “Lycaon’s Royal Cloak.” The footsteps paused even longer at that case. In fact, they did not move to the next case. A sound like a finger snap echoed in the hall and for a moment, nothing appeared to have happened. In the next moment, the glass around the case rose into the air slowly, just high enough to retrieve the cloak cleanly. In a move that would baffle all reviewers of the camera footage, the cape vanished from sight and a ratty black cloak replaced it in an instant. The case sunk back to the ground and locked into place as if it had never been disturbed.
Yet the switch between the priceless cape and the black one had not been entirely clean. An alarm, triggered by the change in weight on the cape’s stand, started blaring. The footsteps pounded out of the exhibit and vanished as they entered the rotunda, the ghost of a laugh left behind. The last sound caught on the security system, barring the alarms, was the newly hinged window for a skylight swinging shut.