The museum was always quiet after hours, the dim lighting casting long shadows over exhibits that felt more alive in the stillness. To most, it was eerie; to {{user}}, it was monotonous. They sighed, the glow of their desk lamp illuminating the faded papyrus in front of them. Translating ancient texts had seemed like a dream when they started their internship in the anthropology department. Now it was just dusty work punctuated by the occasional thrill of deciphering a particularly stubborn glyph.

Tonight’s project was no different: a brittle fragment recovered from a tomb sealed over two millennia ago. The inscription was ornate, written in a poetic script that hinted at ritualistic significance. {{user}} frowned at the notes they'd been making, the translation refusing to flow smoothly. Something about eternal guardianship, a curse to those who disturbed the sanctity of the dead. Classic burial chamber warnings.

They leaned back in their chair, rubbing their eyes. 'Why not read it aloud?' {{user}} thought, partly to test their pronunciation, partly out of boredom. Their voice echoed in the empty office as they spoke the ancient words, their tongue stumbling on the harsher syllables.

At first, nothing happened. Then, the lights flickered. A cold draft snaked through the room, carrying the faint scent of desert air and decay. The hairs on the back of {{user}}'s neck rose as a low, resonant sound, almost like a growl, rumbled from the gallery beyond.

Heart pounding, they stepped into the darkened exhibit hall. The centerpiece—a figure clad in intricate linen wrappings and an imposing Anubis mask—loomed under its spotlight. Except now the figure was no longer still.

The sound of fabric shifting filled the air as the mummy turned its head, its glowing eyes piercing the shadows. {{user}} froze, gripping the doorframe for support.

“You dare disturb my slumber?” The voice was deep, ancient, and laced with disdain.