Watching Harris writhing in agony, Dawn frowned and slowly raised his wand.

Fatima turned her gaze toward him. “Kid, what are you doing?”

“Burn him.”

Dawn’s voice was calm. “The secret passage we need is at the back of the chamber. Instead of waiting for the necro beetles to multiply beyond control, it’s better to burn everything now while we still can.”

“Burn him?”

Amir froze, staring at Dawn in disbelief. “But… Mr. Harris—”

“It makes no difference. He’s already as good as dead.”

Without hesitation, Dawn made his decision. He pointed his wand at the man convulsing in the flames of pain and uttered the ignition spell coldly.

A sudden burst of fire roared through the room. The heat surged forward, reddening their faces.

Amir never expected Dawn to act so quickly. Watching the silhouette swallowed by fire, he instinctively reached out a hand but didn’t know what to do.

Fatima’s fingers twitched slightly, but after a moment’s hesitation, she sighed and gave up the thought of extinguishing the flames.

“Kid, you’re really ruthless! When we were attacked by those necro beetles before, it was Harris who carried you out unconscious!”

“Is that so? Then I’m grateful for that,” Dawn replied indifferently.

The fire burned fiercer by the second.

In the poorly ventilated passage, the stench of scorched flesh mixed with thick smoke, spreading fast. The red glow reflected off the golden idols, making them appear to drip molten sweat.

“Ahhh!”

Harris’s screams rose sharply.

“Something’s not right,” Dawn muttered outside the chamber, narrowing his eyes.

The man’s skin should have been crawling with beetles, his flesh burned for minutes now—yet he was still screaming with such strength?

Dawn focused his gaze on Harris’s twitching arm.

The skin there had already charred and cracked open, yet to his astonishment, new flesh was rapidly regenerating beneath it.

“I think I understand,” Fatima suddenly spoke, her expression changing as she looked toward the golden sun disk on the wall.

“In the myths, Aten was known as the Giver of Life. It’s said that his hands fell from his body to spread life across the world.”

“Life force?” Dawn frowned slightly. The word sounded out of place in a world of magic.

But as he looked at the strange glowing patterns spreading beneath Harris’s skin, he began to understand—it was magic. A continuous surge of restorative and growth magic keeping him alive.

“So this place isn’t actually dangerous,” Dawn said thoughtfully. “It’s just that Harris was unlucky enough to have those beetle eggs inside him.”

“I think that’s right,” Fatima agreed, after once again checking her black cat thoroughly.

She then muttered a spell, her robes widening to cover her completely before stepping carefully into the chamber again.

“Aten’s hands represent the light of the sun,” she said. “Better not expose ourselves to too much of it.”

Amir blinked, clutching the jewels in his pocket nervously. “Light? What light? You mean the gold and gems?”

“Exactly,” Fatima said. “There must be a real source of light in here—otherwise the gold wouldn’t shine so brightly.”

Amir sighed in relief, realizing she wasn’t saying the treasure itself was cursed.

Dawn understood Amir’s fear and greed all too well. He found it foolish but said nothing.

Transforming his robe with a quick spell as Fatima had done, he followed her into the chamber.

Harris’s eyes had already burned away, and he rolled aimlessly on the floor.

“The necro beetles can’t stand heat,” Fatima said as she stepped toward the golden sun disk.

“So they won’t come out just yet. That gives us a little time. We have to find a way to open the next passage before they hatch again.”

She studied the wall carefully, muttering as she tried different spells—but Aten’s legends were few, and no clue revealed itself.

Dawn looked at the statues surrounding them. “Maybe we should kneel?” he suggested.

“Kneel?” Fatima blinked.

Dawn nodded. “We answered the Sphinx’s riddle to reach this place, which means everything so far was planned by the tomb’s owner.

You said this path leads to the Pharaoh himself.

Then he must have wanted us to reach the end. He’d leave a hint. Look around—this place is clearly a shrine to the sun god. It’s obvious what he expects from us.”

Fatima’s eyes lit slightly. She looked at him with amusement. “You’re clever, kid.”

She stepped before the altar, bent her knees—then paused and stood back up, a faint smile curling her lips.

“But since you’re the one who thought of it,” she said teasingly, “why don’t you try it first?”

Dawn met her eyes calmly. “Because I’m British. I don’t worship Egyptian gods.”

“Oh, that’s inconvenient,” she said lightly. “I’m Egyptian, but I worship Amun. Kneeling to Aten would be… difficult.”

“Are you serious?!” Amir snapped, his nerves frayed. His transformation spell was weak, and his robe was full of holes.

Without waiting, he shoved between them and dropped to his knees with three quick bows.

A deep rumble echoed through the chamber.

The golden wall beneath the sun disk split open.

“It really worked!” Amir gasped, eyes wide with excitement. Without hesitation, he rushed through the opening.

Such a reckless fool, Dawn thought, shaking his head. He waited a moment to make sure Amir wasn’t immediately attacked, then followed.

But before they could go far—

A sickening, wet sound echoed behind them.

Several necro beetles tore through Harris’s flesh and crawled out, their black carapaces glistening.

“Run!” Amir shouted, panicked.

Dawn scanned the walls quickly, found a weak point, and struck it hard with his wand.

Another loud rumble shook the air as the stone doorway slammed shut just in time.

“You’ve got skill,” Fatima said, catching her breath.

Once they were safe, the three finally took in their surroundings.

They were in another stone passage almost identical to the last one, with colorful murals depicting repeating scenes.

By the dim, flickering light of their nearly dead torches, they walked on in silence.

The corridor widened gradually, funnel-like, until after about half an hour of cautious walking, they reached the end.

Before them stood another chamber—this one simple and bare. No gold, no jewels. Only a wooden sarcophagus rested upon a stone dais at its center.

“We made it,” Fatima said with visible relief. “If there’s a body here, there must be a way out. We’re finally getting out of this place.”

Amir’s eyes brightened as his hand tightened around the pouch of gems. He began to imagine his future wealth, his new wand, his new life.

He took two eager steps forward, then hesitated. Looking back, he asked quietly, “Mr. Harris… he really can’t be saved?”

The air turned heavy.

After a pause, Fatima sighed. “Why ask something so foolish now?”

“But you said Aten gives life, didn’t you? Doesn’t that mean he can live—until we come back for him?”

“Come back?” Fatima gave a faint, strange smile. “First, even if we escape, there’s no guarantee we could ever find this place again. And second—what could we possibly do to save a man whose body is full of necro beetles?”

Amir fell silent.

He imagined Harris’s body crawling with countless insects, devouring him from within yet never letting him die.

A shiver ran down his spine. “If it were me,” he whispered, “I’d rather die.”

“Exactly,” Dawn said quietly. “Before we left, we should’ve given Mr. Carter a Killing Curse.”

The conversation died.

Fatima shook her head, pulling out her black cat once again and sending it ahead into the tomb.

Seeing Amir’s lingering sadness, she said softly, “Egyptian tombs aren’t beaches full of gold waiting to be picked.

Everyone who enters a Pharaoh’s burial ground knows they might never come out. High risk, high reward.”

She pointed to Amir’s bulging pocket. “Those gems you picked up are rare—some could fetch tens of thousands of Golden Suns, maybe more if you find a collector.”

“So cheer up. Once we’re out, you’ll never have to worry about work again. You could buy so many wands you’d toss one after every spell.”

Her tone was light, but Dawn sensed she was talking more to herself than to him.

Amir nodded silently, then bit his lip. “Did Mr. Harris have any family?”

“Why?”

“I think… he deserves a share of what I found,” Amir said, as if cutting into his own flesh.

Fatima blinked. “I only know he has a son in Luxor. Nothing more. But maybe you can ask him.”

She nodded toward Dawn.

“I don’t know much either,” Dawn replied. “But the Carter family’s still known in Britain. If you really want to do something, you can find them.”

The cat soon returned, unharmed. The three exchanged a look and stepped into the final chamber.

In the center stood the wooden coffin.

“Should we open it?” Amir asked uncertainly.

“Of course,” Fatima said, eyes gleaming. “Tutankhamun’s tomb was discovered long ago. I’m curious who lies here.”

Dawn hesitated—he didn’t like disturbing the dead—but he noticed the flow of magical lines in the room all converging toward the coffin. He stepped back silently, giving his consent.

Fatima raised her wand and cast a levitation spell. To her surprise, there was no magical resistance—the coffin rose easily.

The wood creaked loudly.

The heavy lid lifted, revealing a smaller golden coffin within.

“Wait!” Dawn suddenly called out.

From his angle, he had noticed something carved on the inside of the wooden lid.

At his signal, Fatima turned it over and laid it flat on the ground.

She leaned closer, her eyes lighting up. “It’s carved in ancient Egyptian. Looks like… the life story of whoever’s buried here.”

She began to read aloud.

“On the third day of the Nile’s flood, my brother—who was meant to inherit the Pharaoh’s throne—suddenly died. It happened as he was boasting to me about his hunt.”

“I saw a gaping wound in his skull, blood and brain spilling out, just like the beasts he had slain.”

“My father looked upon his body and said nothing. He simply sighed, ordered his mummification, and told me gently that my brother would return one day.”

“The next day, my father came to me to teach me the sacred days and taboos of the gods, urging me to remember them all.”

“Then I understood—”

“My brother died because, on the day of Bastet’s birth, he shot and killed a black cat, and so was cursed.”

“Who is Bastet?” Dawn interrupted.

“The goddess of home and protection,” Fatima answered without looking up. “Usually depicted as a woman with a cat’s head.”

Dawn nodded, letting her continue.

“I mourned for my brother. It seemed to me a senseless tragedy.”

“The gods we worship are too many. Their sacred days fill every calendar, their taboos endless.”

“For example—”

“On the tenth day of the harvest season, we may not drink water, for it is the day of Set, god of the desert and storms.”

“But on the eleventh day, we must drink water to honor Anuket, goddess of the Nile.”

“I asked my father if the gods truly exist. Why had I only ever seen their punishments, but never them?”

“My father was silent for a long while. Then he patted my head and said, ‘You’ll understand once you become Pharaoh.'”

By the time Fatima finished reading, her eyes gleamed with fascination. As both a theologian and an archaeologist, she could not resist the thrill of uncovering such a forgotten history.

___________

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