The building itself was massive, almost temple-like, its façade grand and commanding.
Kingsley was the first out of the car, his hand steadying me before I could even plant my foot on the pavement. The others followed, falling into formation without speaking. A wall of bodies, surrounding me. Guiding me.
Protecting me.
Inside, the air shifted. Cool, still, carrying the faint scent of dust and stone older than time itself.
My heart pounded as we entered the first gallery. Sarcophagi, their painted eyes wide and unblinking. Rows of amulets glinting under lights. Papyri lined with hieroglyphics too intricate to process. Every corner whispered of eternity.
And then—statues.
Hathor, her horns cradling the sun disk, lips carved soft as if she might smile at me. Another form, an ancient on
