It took decades, but with new technology, they finally found it—the long-lost crypt of the Northern ruler. Opening it was slow and meticulous, but the reward was staggering: gold, jewels, garments, even preserved food. And at the center, in a stone casket, lay the ruler themself.

Transporting the artifacts—along with the massive stone casket—was no easy feat. But after months of effort, every last piece was safely delivered to the museum’s research center.

At last, it was time to open the casket.

They’d expected relics—bones, fragments, the usual. Instead, they found a perfectly preserved body. Skin untouched by time. Eyes closed, like someone peacefully asleep.

Dr. Riley leaned in, breath shallow, hand trembling as he reached out. His fingers brushed the figure’s wrist.

A beat.

His eyes widened. “Holy shit... I felt a pulse.”

“No touching!” barked Dr. Price, the senior archaeologist, storming forward. “That body is an artifact, and touching it is strictly against protocol. It’s fragile—centuries old, if not more! And a pulse? That’s impossible.”

But then, as the team argued—voices clashing over logic and impossibility—they saw it.

The chest. It moved.

A slow, deliberate rise... then fall.

It was breathing.

The room fell silent, every pair of eyes locked on the impossible.