Author's Note: Now I'm aware that more people will have played the Jak games rather than Sphinx, but I'm trying to give background for both without being too redundant. This is set shortly after Jak 3 and a fair while after the events of Sphinx, with a lot of assumptions made on both counts. Enjoy. 3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the games or characters from the Jak series or Sphinx and the cursed Mummy. Wish I did though. I'd start making more sequels.

CHAPTER I – Worlds of Sand and Sun

"There must be something we can do for him. Without him we cannot…"

"Set will have spies everywhere. To find some place beyond his reach we would have to…"

"Must we send him so far? He will be alone and unprotected."

"The young prince can watch over him."

"But will that be enough?"

"It will have to be."

Sphinx clawed his way back from unconsciousness, trying to focus on the elusive voices to guide his way. His vision was blurred, and the glow from the torches was dim, but with effort he made out the concerned features of his teacher hovering above him. "Sphinx? Are you awake, my friend?"

"Where…?" The word stuck in his parched throat, which felt as dry as the desert. He licked cracked lips before trying again. "Horus?"

Imhotep's expression saddened. "Horus is gone, Sphinx. He took the Sword and Shield of Osiris with him."

Memories fluttered out of his grasp in a confused haze. He tried to sit up but Imhotep's long fingered hands – fragile looking, but surprisingly strong – pushed him back.

"You mustn't try to move yet, my boy. You were quite badly injured in the fight."

He could feel that. Pain, hollow and hungry, wracked his body, cleaving a hole through his back and festering beneath his ribs, ready to eat him from the inside out. His breath came in shallow pants, and he had to fight not to pass out again. "How many?" he asked dizzily, hoping Imhotep would understand his meaning.

He did, judging by the way his wizened face fell further. "Too many. There is simply no end to these monsters, it seems. Heliopolis has nearly been overrun, but you have other things to worry about."

Sphinx disagreed. This was his home, and as long as he had breath he would fight for it, even without the legendary blade. His weak struggles brought a chuckle from beyond the darkness that obscured his vision. "Your apprentice is stubborn, Imhotep. An unfortunately common trait in the young."

The new voice made Sphinx freeze. "Anubis…"

Anubis stepped forward, and it was a small shock to see the jackal faced being looking so old. Age didn't affect the greater gods though, so perhaps weakened was the better term. Sphinx had known Anubis must have been helping the fight in his own strange way, but seeing the effect made him regret every bitter thought about deities not pulling their weight in the world.

"Sphinx. A shame we had to meet again under such unfortunate circumstances, but your teacher insisted."

Anubis swept a hand over Sphinx's torso, and the worst of the pain eased slightly – enough that he could draw a full breath once more.

"I'm afraid I can be of little help, however. Your wounds are deep. Only time and rest will heal them."

But there was no time, and certainly no rest for anyone if Heliopolis was so close to being lost. He opened his mouth to say as such, but Anubis shook his head.

"I know what you're thinking, but the truth is we cannot afford to lose you Sphinx. You are a child of prophecy; the last hero on a world that desperately needs one. We cannot take chances allowing you back into the fight before you are ready, which is why we are sending you away."

Words of protest died on his lips as the God gave him a stern look. "You are in no position to argue, apprentice. You aren't a fully fledged godling just yet, even if you weren't half dead."

"Sphinx, please listen to us," Imhotp's voice softened Anubis's harsh tone with reason. "We came very close to losing you in the temple, and there is still a very real chance that your injuries will kill you without proper care."

"But-"

The old baboon closed his eyes. "If Heliopolis falls, so it must be, but it will always rise again. I promise you, we will retake our home when the time is right. Until then, just rest."

A feather light touch crossed his brow, and he felt rather than saw the soft white light of magic above his head.

"Sleep, Sphinx."

If there was one good thing that could be said about the desert, it was that…

…No, scratch that. There was absolutely nothing good about it.

"Jaaak," Daxter whined, flopping over the top of the door panel to catch as much of the breeze through his fur as possible. "It's hot. Do you know what it's like having heat rash with fur? Because let me tell you buddy, this is not my idea of a good time." He paused for a breath, then pitched his voice to a mocking falsetto. "Hey Dax, why don't we take a break from our nice, quiet, peaceful, entirely satisfying lives to go dig up a bit of dirt in the wastelands for Sig? Bah! That's the last time I listen to you!"

Jak raised his eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell beneath the shroud of his scarf and goggles. "You didn't say no."

"How was I supposed to know what you were getting us in to? I thought there was going to be a bit more beach action, and a few less metal heads." The Ottsel scratched his ear distractedly. "If you'd told me we were going to be roasting ourselves alive in this oversized baking tray I would have told you where to shove it."

Jak radiated an offended silence. He'd spent a fair bit of time remodeling the car, much to Kleiver's annoyance, and he didn't like to hear it being reduced to a simple 'baking tray'.

Daxter just rolled his eyes. "Oh please buddy. So the car has a few shiny missiles. Big whoop. You're getting to be as bad a Kiera." He couldn't see it behind the mask, but Daxter could practically feel Jak's smug grin. "And for the record, I absolutely do NOT want to know what you two get up to in that garage."

Jak snorted in amusement at Daxter's exaggerated disgust.

"So what's so great about this big spooky temple anyway? Seem told me it was haunted, can you believe that?" Jak's expression said 'no'. "Well, okay, maybe 'haunted' wasn't the word she used, but she did say something about 'the restless spirits of ages past'. Like we're gonna see anything like that. I bet some Precursor got bored and set up a few speakers and made spooky noises every time one of those Monks tried to get it. I wouldn't put it past them."

Jak wasn't exactly the best person to be holding up a conversation, but Daxter was bored enough to fill the silence for both of them. At least it helped to keep his mind off the heat, and Jak was being ridiculously stingy with the water. Yes it was a long trip, but he was about to boil in his own skin. It was a shame Jak was completely immune to his doe eyes. Everyone else was a sucker for them. Well…maybe not Torn. Or Ashelin. Or Samos, for that matter. But Tess was! And speaking of Tess…

"Hmm, a cool drink back at the Naughty Ottsel is sounding real good right about now."

"We're almost there," Jak said, tilting his head towards the shimmering mesa in front of them. A dark shape in the distance, sharply triangular, promised an end to the monotony and, best of all, shade.

"Oh yeah! Step on it baby!"

The last stretch was rough and uncomfortable, but the car scampered over the dunes with the grace of a desert cat. Daxter was almost appreciative enough to take back his earlier comment, but once they were close enough to see their destination properly, he was distracted by something else.

He whistled in appreciation. "Is it just me, or is this temple thingy kind of…small? I thought Sig said they'd had Monks exploring this place for weeks?"

The triangle wasn't nearly as big as it had seemed from a distance. The point of it would have only just beaten the walls of Spargus for height.

"Most of the place has been buried by storms. This is just the tip of it."

"Oh." And then another thought. "Hey, Sig isn't really gonna make us dig this whole place up, right?"

"No," Jak told him patiently. "We're just here to make sure it isn't dangerous."

Dexter sighed long-sufferingly. "Ah. The work of the sacrificial lambs is never done."

Jak ignored him, following the base of the building until the entrance came into view. One of the huge blocks that made up the wall of the structure had been painstakingly pulled out, leaving an ominous looking hole in the wall.

"I'm allowed to be having a bad feeling about this, right?" Daxter asked nervously as the car slowed to a halt. He vaulted up onto Jak's shoulder plate, hissing uncomfortably at the sting of overheated metal under his paws.

"We'll be fine," Jak said confidently, jumping up to the entrance with practiced ease. A rush of cool, musty air met them as they peered into the darkness. Their breath seemed to echo in the room.

"Heh. Don't suppose you brought a flashlight?" Daxter said.

In response, Jak hefted his Morph gun, bringing its scope light online. He tugged his scarf back down, revealing an expression that was far too eager for Daxter's liking.

"Oh yeah. This is going to be real fun," he sighed resignedly. After all, it wasn't like he could let Jak go in on his own. It was common knowledge that the man would fall apart without Daxter keeping him on track.

Thick lines of rope had been anchored into the stone, allowing the brave to rappel down into the room below. Daxter got a solid grip on Jak's hair as the blond held one of the lines and, without a spare word or a backwards glance, jumped straight into the abyss.

"Me?" Prince Tutenkhamen repeated incredulously. "You want me to look after him?"

"You know, maybe he has a point," Anubis drawled. "Perhaps we should be looking for someone a bit livelier."

Tut was torn between mortal outrage and understandable wariness. It was ever so possible Anubis had a sense of humor, but who knew how the mind of a god worked? He dusted his bandages self-consciously before answering, "It's not that I don't want to help, but I'm hardly a match for Set if he actually manages to find us. Should you send a warrior to guard him instead?"

"Anyone with such skills have already been appointed to protecting our borders," Imhotep said, throwing a sharp look at Anubis before the jackal could speak. Surprisingly, the god seemed appropriately chastened by the aged wizard. "Also, yours and Sphinx's destinies are inexorably intertwined. As long as you are together, I'm sure you will be able to overcome the dangers you must face."

It was hard to object to such a plea. "But…"

He still wanted to go home. He wasn't sure how Luxor was surviving without him, or the true fate of his brother, and most of all he wanted to see his beloved Nefertiti again. Unfortunately, he was still very much dead, and without the help of Imhotep and Sphinx he didn't have a very good chance of returning to his original form, so at least for the time being it was out of the question. Not while Heliopolis was so dangerously close to falling, and not while Sphinx was so terribly hurt.

He risked a glance at the young demigod. Ever since Anubis had brought him back from the Sun Shrine Temple it had been an effort to force himself to witness the kind of toll this new war had taken. Under the influence of Imhotep's magic, Sphinx lay terribly still, all the more shocking because he was usually so full of life. He looked more dead than Tut felt, and somehow the prince just knew there was no way he could leave his side. They weren't precisely friends – even despite the magnitude of their adventure they'd only known each other for a short time – but Tut had the feeling they could have been.

They would be, if they survived this.

Although survive might not have been the best word to use in his case. He sighed deeply. "So where are you sending us?"

"Would it hurt you to WARN a guy before you did that?" Daxter asked, trying valiantly to smooth down the fur that had puffed up when Jak had taken his leap of faith The bastard had stopped their decent a mere two feet from the floor, pretty as you please, and moved on as if nothing happened. The ottsel hadn't taken it quite so calmly.

"Relax Dax. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah yeah, three adventures and you think you're hot stuff." At least in the dark his dignity was being somewhat preserved. The steady glow of Jak's morph gun was the only guide they had, and it was barely enough to keep them from tripping on the uneven floor. Not even precursor architecture could last forever, it seemed.

It was surprising cool inside the tunnels – almost enough to make Daxter nostalgic for the sun outside. The wind murmured eerily in the passages, a constant counterpart to the hiss of sand on stone and Jak's even breathing. The light cast harsh shadows over the hieroglyphs carved into the walls, illuminating strangely shaped creatures with animalistic heads and relatively human bodies.

"These things get crazier all the time," Daxter muttered, studying them absently. "Suppose this is the precursor equivalent of finger-painting?"

Jak's pace slowed for a half step as he looked at the carvings himself, and his silence spoke volumes for someone as familiar with them as Daxter was.

"What? Whaaaat?" he questioned, tugging lightly on Jak's hair for effect.

"They just look a little different from usual." Jak offered, but even if his inflection sounded the same as usual he was hefting the gun a little higher and his watchful gaze became even more furtive.

"So? Maybe they just got bored with the old stuff? Heck, I know I was bored with it."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

But they were both tenser now, over the fact that a few symbols didn't match up. Right. Daxter would have laughed if he wasn't worried the still in the air would shatter. He suddenly wished they'd brought more light with them. At least it looked like there was some more in the passage up ahead, probably leaking in from the outside. He was relieved…until they got close enough to see where it was coming from, and then it wasn't the slightest bit comforting.

"Those are torches, right?" he asked.

"Yep."

"And Sig said there wasn't going to be anyone in here but us, right?"

"Yep."

"So…why are they burning?"

"…"

"…Yeah. That's what I thought."

The wall mounted brackets burned cheerfully but inexplicably, casting their warm glow over the small room that the passage had opened up into. An ornately decorated archway took up the entirely of the opposite wall, but it was blocked off by a flat stone block with no conceivable openings.

In the center of the room there was a box-like structure, as high as Jak's chest and long enough to fit a body.

Daxter eyes it warily. "Think they stuck someone in that?"

"Seem did say this temple probably had a few burial rooms. Kings would have been laid to rest here." That didn't interest him as much as the arch. There was something strange about it. He went to take a close look while Daxter jumped from his shoulder and climbed up onto the tomb instead.

"Remind me not to end up in one of these things. Although…what do we have here?" There was a strange glint in the eye of one of the carvings. Paws and tail swept it away the thin film of sand to reveal a glowing gem lodged in the stone. "Holy Precursors..."

Daxter madly started dusting at the rest of it, revealing more jewels in varying colors. "Oh baby, would you look at this? Jak, we're gonna be rich!"

"Uh huh." The center of the arch didn't look the same as the surrounding carving. Jak swiped a finger across it, leaving a clean, shining patch. It wasn't stone at all, but some kind of metal. Using his sleeve he quickly scrubbed away at more of it, hoping to find a seam or a button, something to make the thing open. He had a strong feeling that there was something important on the other side of it.

The torches suddenly flickered behind him, changing the shape of the light in the room, and he cast an exasperated look over his shoulder. "Dax, what did you-"

Daxter was nowhere in sight, and instead of the pleasing yellow glow, the torches now shone an unnatural green. Jak swung his gun upward, finger on the trigger. "Dax?"

"-and we'll never have to work for that big shot again. My little Tess-y babe is going to just love these-" The voice was quiet and muffled, and it was coming from…behind him?

He turned quickly and jumped at the threatening movement that crossed his vision, but a second glance showed it was only his reflection in the strange metal. He looked harder, still trying to find the source of Daxter's distant voice, when he suddenly realized that in the reflection the torches were burning yellow again, and that behind him he could see Daxter standing on the tomb, chattering away like nothing was wrong.

He glanced back; the light was green, the room was empty. He looked to the arch; the light was yellow, Daxter was present. It wasn't just a reflection at all. The two different but identical rooms were separated by some kind of barrier – like thick glass – but how had he ended up on the other side of it?

"Jak? Hey Jak, where'd you go?" Daxter had finally noticed the disappearance of his partner and was looking around in confusion.

"Dax!" he called, wincing as his own voice echoed deafeningly, and then freezing as he heard a quiet scuffling sound.

"Jak? Was that you? Hey!"

There was another noise, almost like a sigh of breath, and this time there was no mistaking it. It was coming from inside the stone tomb behind him. Raising his weapon and holding his breath he took small, cautious steps towards the source of the sound.

"Come on pal, don't do this to me," Daxter pleaded to the empty space. There was nothing left of his partner (and his very large, comforting gun) except a trail of footprints and a handprint shaped smear on the wall. Had he turned invisible? Fallen through a trap door? Gotten himself vaporized? Daxter didn't know, but he'd almost thought for a second he'd heard Jak's voice, so maybe he hadn't gone too far.

It suddenly occurred to him that without light he couldn't even leave the room to go looking. No way he was going to risk this freaky temple in the dark. "Get back here already! JAK!"

The only answer to his shout was that of ancient stone groaning in protest, and the gem-encrusted tomb suddenly buckled under his feet, throwing him ungracefully to the floor. He spat out a mouthful of sand, and then stared in transfixed horror as the lid of the box rose painstakingly upwards, being forced open from the inside. It crashed heavily to the floor a moment later, and then a figure rose into view.

A figure wrapped entirely in thick, yellowed gauze, with only a single bloodshot eyeball staring out from its misshapen face. A corpse. A mummy. And it was moving on its own.

"WAAAAH!" Screaming, though a perfectly natural reaction, was perhaps not the best idea as the thing turned sharply to look at Daxter, blinking its single eye uncomprehendingly. Looking around for a weapon, the only other objects in the room were the torches. With a superhuman jump (not that he was human anymore, but it was still more than four times his height) he stole the slender length of wood from the bracket. Dropping back to the ground, he brandished the burning end in what he hoped was a threatening manner, and with all the confidence he could muster he yelled, "Hold it right there! I'll have you know I'm a master at vanquishing the undead."

Perhaps the mummy wasn't used to being ordered around by a talking orange rodent, but it gaped at him for a long moment before making a clumsy move to get out of its coffin. Mind gripped by panic, Daxter did the only thing he could think of. He threw the torch.

It smacked the mummy in the chest, and with a whoosh it caught fire quite impressively. That didn't seem to stop it though. If anything it looked rather annoyed.

"AHHHH! BURNING DEAD GUY! JAAAAK!"

There was only so much one Ottsel could take, and who could blame him for turning tail when he was facing off against a seemingly immortal corpse? Forgetting his earlier objection, he ran recklessly back down the dark corridor, not caring where he was going as long as it was away from here.

Was he still dreaming? Sphinx didn't know anymore. The distinction between waking and sleeping was so tenuous that one was as good as the other, and in both of them he could feel the pain still clawing its way at his insides.

His memory was full of holes, but he vaguely remembered Anubis telling him that the wound would worsen before it would get better. Even with the magic of this world seeping into his sanctuary, the healing was slow. His own neglected magics were of little use, and only his body's natural resilience was keeping him from succumbing to an even deeper sleep.

He couldn't risk it - not knowing if he would ever awaken again. Imhotep had said he would return when the wound had healed, but who knew if he would be able to keep that promises? He had to stay awake, had to be ready the moment he could move again.

He had to return home…

Claws clenched and unclenched, his breath came sharply, and he tasted blood. He floated in a place that was warm and green – such a foreign color to one who'd been raised in a desert – on the verge on consciousness but not truly awake.

And then things changed. It was cold, suddenly. He tried to protest, but he couldn't seem to remember how to work his body, and with the cold came a new color. White, so brilliant it blinded him, and before he could try to move it swallowed him whole.

The coffin in this room wasn't like the other There was no dust, and instead of extravagant carvings and jewels there was only a single, small inscription; equally unhelpful because Jak couldn't read it. The sounds had disappeared, but now every sense was screaming at him that he wasn't alone in this room.

With some trepidation – more so because he had to let go of his gun, he pushed at the weighty lid of the box, sliding it carefully to one side. Nothing moved. Warily, he raised the scope and peered in to the shadowed content of the box, though it took him a few tries to recognize what his eyes were showing him.

It's just a boy…

Well, maybe not 'boy'. He looked to be Jak's age, or perhaps a little younger, but there was an even more compelling similarity between them that Jak couldn't quite name, and a moment later he almost forgot that initial impression in the face of the boy's overwhelming strangeness. Whatever he was, he wasn't quite human.

His clothing reminded Jak of Spargus, untouched by modern manufacturing, rustic but practical. His face was painted around the eyes and nose, and his hair was hidden under a strange golden headdress. Most amazing of all, his ears…they were still pointed but so short. It was difficult to look past that, but when he did he finally noticed the bandages wrapped thickly around the boy's midsection, and from there he could smell the familiar tang of blood and eco.

A green glow rose like mist through a small fissure, and he knew instantly what was happening. Haven City had a hospital with chambers that worked on exactly the same principal. Green eco had the power of life and regeneration – Samos's field of expertise – and in the cases of severe injury people were placed in stasis tubes and exposed to large amounts of the substance to help them heal. That explained the blood as well, although…

Tentatively, Jak reached down and touched the boy's arm. His skin was heated and feverish, and his eyes fluttered slightly at the contact, but otherwise he didn't respond. More confidently, Jak pulled at the dead weight until he could get a better look at the source of the injury, and let out an involuntary hiss at his discovery. The bandages were soaked through towards the boy's back, and there was a large sticky pool at the bottom of the box. Even with the eco, it was bad.

There was a drawn, suffering breath as Jak probed the size of the wound, and he hesitated. What was he doing anyway? He should just close the box back up, go get Dax, get the hell out of here and report this all to Sig…leaving this strange kid alone in a deserted temple, in what might as well have been a coffin for all it looked like it. And he was badly hurt, to the point where even the eco might not save him.

He laid the other back to rest, giving him a moment to think, and watching the eco curl around the boy's body before seeping through his skin. He must have been a natural channeler of eco for it to be absorbed so readily, much like Jak himself. It gave him an interesting thought.

After all, the only thing better to heal with than green eco was white eco, the purest form of all. While the substance was difficult to find naturally, Jak could generate it by himself for short periods thanks to the gift from the precursors. If this boy could absorb it, the would might heal that much faster, but was that really a good idea? After all, he had no idea who this stranger as. He might be a remnant of the dark Precursors, or some other alien being with ill intentions for the planet.

Jak looked down at his hands. The boy's blood was on them. Red, the same color as his own. And there was that nagging sense of sameness about the two of them…

What was he worried about anyway? If worse came to worse, there wasn't any trouble that couldn't be taken care of with his morph gun. Slinging it back over his shoulder, he concentrated on bringing the light to the forefront of his mind.

Edit: The chapter had now been split for easier reading, and proper breaks have been inserted because I didn't realise that ruined my formatting. Again. ::sigh::