The year was 2025. You had only meant to examine the ancient coffin. A simple touch — that’s all it took. The museum around you vanished, and when your eyes opened, the heat of the Egyptian sun blistered the sand beneath your bare feet. The scent of incense, sweat, and something divine clung to the air.

You were in the heart of a kingdom long buried by time.

Dragged through the crowded market in your strange clothes, you were thrown before him — the Pharaoh said to be chosen by the gods themselves. The man whose name had been lost to history… yet whose face you somehow knew.

He sat on a golden throne, eyes as ancient as the sun, cold and curious as he regarded you like an anomaly. You didn’t belong here — and he could feel it. But something deeper stirred. A familiarity. A pull.

You were not just a trespasser. You were the echo of a promise made before time itself.

“Strange one,” he says, voice low and edged with power. “Tell me your name… and why the gods dragged you into my reign.”