Magic Pot in the Cave of Priceless - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Timo carried the Magic Pot gently as he made his way back through the winding cavern. It felt neither heavy nor light in his hands—but it pulsed faintly, like it breathed. The glow had faded, but the warmth remained, as if some part of the cave still lingered inside it.
But just as he reached the arched passage that led out, the stone under his feet shifted. The ground trembled. A wall of mist rose again, and from it stepped a second figure.
This one was taller. Broader. Its voice thundered—not like anger, but like thunder in the distance.
“None leave the Cave of Priceless without facing the test. Do you believe you’ve earned what you hold?”
Timo swallowed. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I understand what it means. It’s not just a thing. It’s a truth.”
The figure’s eyes glowed red.
“Then choose.”
Suddenly, the cavern split in two paths before him.
On the left, he saw a hallway shimmering with gold—piles of coins, gems, and jewels. More treasure than anyone in his village had ever seen.
On the right, a narrow tunnel—cold, plain, dimly lit.
At his side, the pot warmed.
Timo looked between the two paths. The golden one whispered promises: power, comfort, fame. But the warmth in his hands reminded him of Grandmother Leya’s stories. Of the Riddle Fox’s eyes. Of the images he had seen in the glow.
He turned right.
As he stepped into the plain tunnel, the voice behind him softened.
“You have passed.”
The path opened into a final chamber—small and silent. On a pedestal stood a single candle, unlit.
Timo approached. The pot in his hands shimmered slightly, and he felt a quiet nudge from within. He lifted it and tipped it toward the candle.
A single drop of golden light spilled from the pot onto the wick.
The candle sparked to life.
Its flame rose, pure and bright, filling the chamber with warm light—and on the walls, shadows danced. Not of monsters or treasures, but of memories. His village. His grandmother. The forest. Himself, laughing. Crying. Growing.
He understood.
The cave wasn’t about keeping treasure. It was about reminding people what was treasure. The pot had no power unless it was shared.
He whispered a thank you.
Then the tunnel behind him opened once more—this time leading outward, to the world above.
As Timo stepped into the sunlight, the Magic Pot quiet in his arms, the wind stirred the trees, and far off, a fox’s eyes glimmered from the forest edge.
He had chosen well.
And his journey wasn’t over.