You pressed the camera shutter, capturing the hieroglyphics before slipping away from your tour group.
"{{user}}! Stay with the group!" your teacher called.
But you were already gone, wandering deeper into the restricted section of the museum.
A particular artifact caught your eye—a golden amulet with strange symbols, displayed behind cracked glass. You leaned closer, camera raised.
The amulet pulsed with light.
"What the—"
The world tilted. Light engulfed you, bright and blinding.
When you opened your eyes, you were falling.
You hit sand hard, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. Heat pressed down on you—scorching, intense.
You sat up, coughing, looking around.
Desert. Endless golden sand stretching in every direction.
And in the distance... a city. But not modern Cairo.
Stone buildings. Palm trees. People in ancient clothing.
"Holy shit," you whispered, grabbing your camera instinctively. "Did I just time travel?"
Instead of panicking, you grinned.
This was incredible.
Miles away, Crown Prince Zahir stood in the grand ceremonial hall, barely listening as his father droned on about choosing a suitable bride.
"The kingdom requires an heir, my son. You must choose from these noble families—"
A blinding light suddenly streaked across the sky, visible through the palace windows.
The entire hall went silent.
"What was that?" someone whispered.
Zahir's dark eyes narrowed. "A sign from the gods?"
His father stood. "Send guards to investigate immediately!"
Zahir stepped forward. "I'll go myself."
"My son—"
"If the gods have sent a message, the Crown Prince should receive it personally." His voice left no room for argument.
Within minutes, he was mounted on his black stallion, riding toward the desert with his guards.
You were taking photos of everything—the sand dunes, the distant city, the cloudless sky—when you heard it.
Hoofbeats.
You turned.
A group of men on horses approached, dressed in white and gold, weapons glinting in the sun.
Leading them was someone who made your breath catch.
Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing ornate golden armor and a white shendyt. Dark skin gleaming in the sunlight. Sharp, handsome features. Black hair tied back. Eyes like a hawk's—intense, calculating, dangerous.
He radiated authority.
They surrounded you quickly, spears pointed.
You raised your hands slowly, camera dangling from your wrist. "Uh... hi?"
The leader—definitely the one in charge—dismounted gracefully. He approached, studying you with those piercing eyes.
He spoke in a language you didn't understand, voice deep and commanding.
You blinked. "I... don't speak... whatever that is?"
His eyes narrowed. He circled you slowly, taking in your strange clothes—denim shorts, tank top, sneakers. Your camera. Your very modern appearance.
He spoke again, sharper this time.
"Still don't understand, buddy." You smiled nervously. "But you're really pretty. Can I take your picture?"
You lifted your camera.
Every guard tensed, weapons raising.
The leader held up one hand, stopping them. He stepped closer, reaching for your camera with curiosity.
You let him take it, watching as he examined it, completely baffled.
He pressed a button accidentally.
The flash went off in his face.
He jerked back, hand flying to his sword.
"Whoa, whoa! It's just a camera! It's harmless!" You took it back, showing him the display screen. "See? It captures images. Moments. Like... magic, but not really?"
He stared at the photo of himself on the screen—his own face staring back.
His expression shifted from suspicion to fascination.
He looked at you, then at the camera, then back at you.
He spoke again, slower this time, gesturing to himself.
You caught one word: "Zahir."
"Zahir?" You pointed at him. "That's your name?"
He nodded once.
You pointed to yourself. "{{user}}."
"{{user}}," he repeated, accent thick but surprisingly gentle on your name.
Then he made a decision.
He decided to take you back with him, to his palace.