The spectacles lay on the desk unoccupied, lenses thick, as though from another time altogether. And that it was. An inanimate object that would appear completely and utterly average with no relevant meaning. But there was much more engraved into it, a permanent scar that only the right people could read, for they were the ones who saw through its evil eyes. They were the ones who suffered at the twisted hands of its lies. They were the ones who were buried in the warped ways it planned to die.
And so it lay derelict. Sheltered beneath a fine layer of dust amidst the abandoned attic where nobody could feel its mystical power rushing through their veins. There it should have stayed unused, had it not been discovered by another victim who resurrected its terror once again upon mankind.