I reworked this a bit... It's longer now. Please review.

“Found”

Glimmering water trickles from above me, but I can’t see its source. I raise my cupped hands to rest beneath it, and clear liquid fills them. Footsteps echo behind me as I drink.

“Did you find it yet?” His husky voice calls from behind me and echoes menacingly through the cave.

“No.” My voice sounds small, weak, and high in comparison. I turn to him, but the shadows hide his face, beneath thick black hair and above rough brown wool and calloused skin.

“I need it. Now.” His blue eyes glow coldly in the darkness of the deep cave, and I shiver out of habit as much as fear.

“I know.” I sound too weak, too desperate, too much like I’m begging again. “I’m trying, I’m searching. It’s not here.”

He snarls, deep in his throat like a wolf. “It’s here, I know it.” Staring into the shadows like they’ll offer answers, he sniffs the air. “I can feel it.” I almost think he meant to say “smell.”

He stalks from the cavern to continue his search for something more powerful than he understands. It would destroy him, I think, if he ever managed to find it. I would not mind.

Slowly, holding my long skirts from the damp ground, I continue searching as well. My spare hand slides along the walls, searching for any imperfection that could signify the hiding place of the ring.

Technically, it’s not the ring that holds the greatest power in the world. The ring is a link to it, a way to reach it, like opening a window to reach the fresh air of the outdoors. The stories say the ring is beautiful, and that any who looks upon it will be destroyed by lust for it.

I hope, deep within my heart that it destroys him quickly. I hate him more than I would have believed possible. I was always gentle and peaceful, and then he claimed me. No, I hold no love for my husband, and he holds none for me.

I asked him once, why he never chose a woman more suited to him. He growled first, angry that I would question him, that I would dare question him, that is. When he calmed, he explained quite simply that I was prettier.

Of course, those weren’t the words he used. My husband has always been a vulgar and crude man. At least he is not hard to understand, not hard to plan against because he is not hard to predict.

When he finds the ring—I’ve never hoped that I would find it first—I will bow before him, as he expects. It will not be hard, I have done so before. I will swear my loyalty to his power, and urge him to gain what he deserves: the world.

That is his plan, has always been his plan, even if he’s never known it. He thirsts for power, ever more and ever greater power. The thirst began his search for the ring, and the thirst will end it. With the ring in his hand, he will have the greatest power ever known to man.

So, even without my prompting, he would take the world. I just hope to speed him along. Once he has all that power, it will corrupt him faster and faster. He will fall dead, leaving the ring and all his power behind.

Many men will want it.

No man will have it.

My finger glides across a line in the wall, interrupting my thoughts. I see nothing when I bend down to the level of my finger, but I feel it there, just barely. The line is so small, less than an inch long, that only luck could have guided my finger to it.

I press against the sides of the line, and one of them shifts. First it moves back, and then it slides forward. A small block of stone falls from the opening, and I fumble for it lest the sound of its falling alert my husband.

I miss, but by then, I no longer care. The ring rests in the tiny hole, just at my eye level now. I reach in tentatively, and pull it from its stony tomb.

It is beautiful.

It seems almost to glow, despite the drab light within these caverns, and from its own light, I can see the delicate carvings over its surface. Some are vines, covered in thorns and roses. Some are men and woman, one I think, is a child. Some are towns, castles, roads. I see a harp and a flute. A dragon glares up at me, and so does a god. Zeus, father of the gods and king of the heavens. As I turn the ring round and round, the images change constantly. I never see the same markings twice, but all are so miniscule and so perfect, I know no human hand could have carved a one of them.

Footsteps echo behind me as a stare.

Hastily, I slide the ring onto my finger, unwilling to give up such beauty to a brute like my husband. Soothing warmth fills me, and I know he can never harm me again. I have the ring now to protect me, and he is powerless, clumsy, and mortal.

“I heard something,” he snarls, sightless as ever. “Did you find it?”

“Yes.” I hold up my hand to show him, like a young woman showing off her wedding ring.

“Give it to me.” This time he growls, the same growl that once meant he was near to killing me.

I can remember cowering at that sound, screaming for him to do anything, anything at all, that he wants. Just so long as he leaves me my life. I have lost so much to that growl.

But now, it means nothing. He cannot hurt me at all now. I laugh, and it is a high, tinkling sound, something like a fairy. “It is mine, my dear. I have found it, not you.”

“You are my woman!” He shouts, and I know he grows desperate. He fears the ring. “What you own is mine to own. Hand it over.”

“No.” My voice has never sounded so firm.

He leaps for me then, clumsy in his rage. He swings at me at hits nothing. He spins, swinging wildly, and I stop him with a wave of my hand.

Desperation finally showing clearly in his eyes, and foam forming at the corners of his screaming mouth, my husband makes his final mad lunge for me. I hold my hand serenely in his path and blow him away into death.

I laugh again, softer this time. I have waited so long to punish him.

I turn and walk from the caves, reveling in my enhanced senses, courtesy of the ring. No one knows quite what the ring connects to, but I can feel it now. It is beautiful and warm. I wonder why the stories claimed it was evil. It must simply have been to keep such power out of the wrong hands, hands like my late husband’s.

He would have conquered the world, enslaved it and raped it. Used it up and spit it out when he finished. But I am softer than him. I will bring it peace. I will offer the world wisdom and happiness, and I know it will accept. I can feel it, the warmth assures me they will. And the world will be happy beneath my rule.

I smile very slightly, and say goodbye to this cold and dank place, my husband’s grave. From outside, in the blistering wind, I seal the entrance to the cave. I must, I know, tidy up before presenting myself to the present world rulers. That means a quick trip home.

I twirl my hand, and twirl my space, taking myself to a place where I have never before stood tall.

Yes, my dear, just this once I have beaten you. And “just this once” will last for all of eternity, the warmth tells me so.