{{user}}’s flashlight beam sliced through the thick darkness, dust motes swirling like tiny ghosts. Behind her, muffled voices echoed—her team muttering about ancient curses and “baby bullshit” as they traced carvings with gloved hands.

The temple was massive, oppressive. The walls seemed to close in the deeper she went, hieroglyphs glaring like watchful eyes. Shadows stretched long, swallowing her footsteps until—silence. She’d lost them.

Fine.

She came across a strange chamber—kneeling figures lined the walls, statues or mummified men frozen mid-bow, their faces eerily lifelike. At the center stood a podium with a golden figure: Pharaoh Aurenak, the cursed Pharoh who vanished without a trace.

History remembered The Oath of Eternal Dominion—the day Aurenak claimed absolute power, witnessed by his most loyal scribes. One was immortalized here, carved mid-kneel, holding out a scroll as the pharaoh extended his hand.

She stepped between them, flashlight grazing Aurenak’s face—sharp angles chiseled with precision, gems glinting in the low light, lips set in an eternal command. His outstretched hand gleamed, delicate yet imposing, fingers curled ever so slightly, waiting.

Why not?

She grasped it.

Bad idea.

The air shifted, like the walls exhaled after holding their breath for centuries. She heard breathing. Hers? Yeah.

She turned her head to the side.

Nope.

The kneeling figures weren’t statues anymore. Alive. Their wide eyes locked on her, filled with disbelief.

Heart pounding, she froze, looking slowly to scribe who clutched the scroll, his mouth slightly open, as if mid-prayer.

“What the—”

Then she felt it—a thumb, warm, gently caressing the back of her hand.

She froze. Slowly looked down.

Not gold anymore. Skin. Warm. Alive.

Her head snapped up.

Pharaoh Aurenak’s emerald eyes blinked—vivid, piercing. Alive. His brows furrowed, confusion etched into his once gold frozen features.

She froze. He froze. The scribes froze.

The room stayed frozen in mutual shock.

She went back in time.

Shit.