Thebes – 2,134 BC
Thebes. City of the Living.
Crown jewel of Pharaoh Seti the First.
Home of Hans, High Priest of Osiris, Keeper of the Dead.
Birthplace of Anck-su-namun. The Pharaoh's Mistress.
No other man was allowed to touch her.
However, under the Pharaoh's own nose, his Mistress and the High Priest found love with one another.
Secretly, forbiddingly, they met. Keeping the knowledge of their love between themselves and the Priests of Osiris.
If they were ever to be caught, they would both be doomed to the Pharaoh's wrath.
But for their love, they were willing to risk life itself.
On one of these forbidden meetings, they had decided to meet in the outer foyer; away from prying eyes.
What they did not know was the Pharaoh himself had spied his Mistress wandering the halls, painted from head to toe in her usual gold and black paint. Designs carefully painted across her body, nothing covering her except for a small cloth and the heavy set jewels on her neck and head.
Filled with curiosity, the Pharaoh soon followed her, finding himself in front a slowly closing door leading to the outer foyer.
Pushing the doors open, he found not his mistress but the Priests of Osiris.
"What are you doing here?" He exclaimed, anger slowly rising within him.
They said nothing, merely bowing to him, backing slowly away from him as he strides towards the curtains that blocked the view to the balcony.
Behind the curtains he finds his Mistress, eyes casted down, leaning against the large golden statue of a dog, avoiding his gaze.
He takes her in, anger beginning to disappear till he spots it.
Her beautiful paint is smeared, greatly, down her arm.
"WHO HAS TOUCHED YOU?!" He demands. She looks at him, confused, then to where he points. There is a flash of fear, but she looks to him with a face of strange calmness.
The sound of a sword being unsheathed makes the Pharaoh turn. Unexpectedly finding himself facing his own High Priest.
He is confused, "Hans…My priest?"
Distracted, and unware, Anck-su-namun raises a dagger and plunges it into the Pharaoh's back.
He screams in agony, in fear, as the Priest raises the Pharaoh's own sword and brings it down onto its' owner's body.
The Priests ignore the screams and scramble to close the door, hoping to silence the commotion as best they can.
With the doors now close, they turn to the balcony, watching as the once Pharaoh screams in pain blow after blow. One final scream comes from the once great leader, a gentle thud is heard, until there is nothing but silence.
But then, within the sudden peace, a loud BANG comes from the door.
The two lovers stare at one another, unsure of what they should do as another loud BANG shakes the room.
Another BANG and the Priests run to their High Priest, grabbing him and preparing to take him away.
"No! Get off me!"
"But the Pharaoh's guard's sir!"
"I do not care! Let them come!
"You must go!" He freezes as his lover speaks, "Save yourself! Only you can resurrect me."
Hans' face falls, her eyes looking to him with hope though he is filled with despair as with one final BANG the doors fall.
Quickly, and reluctantly, he goes to the balcony to hide. The Magi burst through the curtains just as he disappears in the darkness outside. There is a slight pause before he hears her speak,
"My body is no longer his temple!"
He does not need to see what happens next, for he knows that the dagger has disappeared into her own body; taking her away from this place and into the next.
He cannot show emotion here.
Not in the open. Not where they can see. Not where the Magi are keeping watchful eye.
He only knew her in passing, they believe, nothing more.
They do not know what they did. They do not know their secrets.
They do not know their plan.
He follows them across the dunes, eyes her body as they travel, watching as if it would disappear if he would to look away.
It is nearly dusk when they begin to lower her body into the sand. The slaves are slow, gentle, either not knowing or simply not caring what she has done. She is still a human whose soul must rest.
It takes too long he thinks.
Finally, the jars are placed down with her, the Magi begin to leave and it is then he makes his move.
It is then the paid soldiers get rid of the slaves, quickly so they do not suffer.
It is then the soldiers help remove her body from below.
It is then his own Priests' let the soldier's then greet death.
It is then, with the final Magi disappearing in the distance across the sand, that they take off across the desert once more.
It is then their plan goes into play.
They race across the desert to the Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead, the ancient burial site for the sons of Pharaohs and the resting place for the wealthy of Egypt.
They make their way through the city quietly, finding their way to the tombs in complete darkness as to not bring attention to themselves. What he seeks lies far beneath this holy city, something that would do nothing more than anger the Gods he so strongly worshipped.
For his love, Hans dared the Gods' anger by going deep into the tombs, where he took the great black book, the Book of the Dead, from its holy resting place.
For her deed Anck-su-namun's soul had been sent to the dark underworld, left to suffer in the afterlife as her vital organs removed and placed into 5 sacred jars.
He places her gently on the large stone table, placing her hands across the large wound. It is as though she is simply asleep, if not for the cold that has overcome her body. He places the jars around her with care, placing her heart last in front of him. He eyes it for a moment, smirking at a long forgotten conversation in which she had declared her heart to be truly his.
The moment fades, the smirk falls, and he sets to work.
The ritual begins, the Priests surrounding the Mistress' body, chanting together as Hans reads from the book. Hans reads each line carefully, articulately, pronouncing every word clearly and as loudly as possible.
He will not make a mistake. He will do this perfectly.
He pauses, hands hovering above her body as the Priests continue to chant.
There is a brief moment and then a large breath is taken.
Anck-su-namun's eyes shoot open as her soul returns to her body, as the High Priest had hoped. He smiles, containing his excitement as best he can. All that is left is to return her organs to their proper place and she would be whole once more.
They would be together once more, as it should be, as it always will be.
Raising the dagger above his lover's chest, Hans prepared to plunge it into where her heart once rested; the first step in bringing her back to him.
He takes a deep breath, readying himself, and then it all ends.
Unbeknownst to him and his Priests, the darkness was not as great of a friend as they had hoped; the Magi easily able to follow them.
The men surround them, stopping the ritual. For a moment, there is a glimmer of hope, Hans thinks, he can escape again, save her, bring her back once more.
But then one wrong move, one swift move of a Magi's elbow, and the jar containing Anck-su-namun's heart falls and shatters. Her body goes limp once more, her soul returning back to the dark underworld, the ritual now as broken as the jar.
Without her heart, bringing her back was now a near impossible task.
He fights, he screams, he is desperate to save her, to bring her back. But the Magi are too strong and as he is dragged back up the stairs, his lover's body resting peacefully still on the table, he realizes he has lost.
His Priests were condemned to be mummified alive. The people of the city would speak of the screams that came from the dark chambers for days to come. Blood curdling and agonizing screams as the men went through the horrid process, haunting the dreams of all that lived in the city.
As for Hans, he was condemned to endure the Hom-Dai, the worst of all ancient curses.
One so horrible, it had never before been bestowed on any victim.
Tongue removed, wrapped alive, buried along with many flesh-eating scarabs that would be his only company, he was to remain sealed inside his stone sarcophagus—to be the undead for all eternity.
The Magi would never allow him to be released, for if he would arise, he would be a walking disease: a plague upon mankind. An unholy flesh eater with the strength of ages, power over the sands, and the glory of the invincibility.
For 3,000 years, men and armies fought over this land, never knowing what evil lay beneath it. Never truly knowing the darkness that lied beneath the sands.
And for 3,000 years, we, the Magi, the descendants of the Pharaoh's sacred bodyguards, kept watch.