This is being adapted from my AO3 account Spectra

Updates will always be posted on AO3 first, and this fic is currently incomplete with weekly- semi weekly updates.

This is uh... Literally the length of a novel and will likely sport 150,000 words around its completion

As always, thanks for reading!

...

Thebes, Ancient Egypt

She had to escape.

Her bare feet scraped against the stone city tile as she ran, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. Her shadow was her only companion, the dark disfiguring it as it clung to her. She couldn't suffer her husband a moment longer. Couldn't stand to bear him another child. She was a fool for ever attempting to try and love him, a fool for thinking she could change him. She cursed the day she ever laid eyes on him. Cursed him, his red hair, his blue eyes. She damned every child that would ever share his blood, even if that included her own.

But the pharaoh... He was a kind, benevolent ruler. The royal family would surely protect her, shield her from his evil. The palace. That was were she had to go.

Her dress was torn, the embroidered silk falling away in tatters as she moved through the city towards the towering palace. Her face still stung from where she'd been struck, the bruising fingerprints beginning to color her arms. But this would be the last time. She just had to reach the gates. Then she would finally be free.

She almost tripped in her rush, the path ahead unlit, her footing mere guesswork. She had waited until it was night, the dark sky immense and speckled with bright, vivid stars. Only them and the moon lit her way now, but even the large shadows did not grant her any relief. She could still feel his presence looming over her, no matter where she went.

She stumbled as she reached the palace stairs, the torches lining the archway straining her eyes as she stepped into the light. It was exposing

"Halt!" The guards shouted, moving to block her entry. She raced up the steps regardless, undeterred, having gone too far now to let their weapons frighten her. It was so close. The heavy gates within reach.

She struggled to catch her breath, her voice shaking with panic. "Please! Please, let me in!" She lurched forward, reaching for the handle, her fingers just barely brushing the cool gold before she was stopped.

The guards roughly grabbed her, forcing her to the ground on her knees. Tears, unbidden but no less honest, began falling from her eyes. She grabbed the plates of the one man's armor, casting him a pleading expression. "I must speak to the Pharaoh! He must see me, please!" She could see in their eyes that they recognized her, but were uncertain of what to do. No doubt she looked a mess, her hair in a state of disarray, her court clothes torn and battered beyond recognition. Ice began to frost between her fingers as her breathing quickened.

Like a ghost, Enji appeared. He slunk out of the shadows, red hair betraying subtle glints of fire in the swaying torchlight.

Fear siezed her heart, and she screamed, struggling against the guards as he moved closer to the palace. He would not take her, not again. Never again. She wrestled one of the guards' blades free and stumbled backwards onto the steps, brandishing her stolen weapon wildly.

The palace gates shuddered and swung open. Either through luck or fate, The pharaoh was suddenly standing in the archway, his young prince trailing after him. The child had a thumb in his mouth and another hand clutched to his father's robes. His young green eyes shone with innocence. His small figure was lost when the pharaoh stepped in front of him, large and intimidating.

"What is going on?" Toshinori demanded. He looked at the woman before him, concern visibly sparking in his features. His eyes caught on the wounds littering her arms, fresh bruises that would have normally been covered by the sleeves of her dress, now in full display.

No. She shook her head, gritting her teeth. It was too late. He was here. He would use his honeyed words to try and smooth things over, speak above her and silence her cries. But he wouldn't have her again. He couldn't. He would never touch her again.

She smiled, broken and twisted, raising the blade high in the air. The pharaoh's eyes widened.

"My body-" She hissed, "Is no longer his temple!"

Without hesitation, she plunged the blade deep into her heart. Pain slammed into her face, distorting it, before it became slack. The pharaoh, Toshinori, watched in horror as her body crumpled to the stone steps like that of a discarded doll. Blood flowed freely down the pathway. Stunned to silence, Toshinori moved forward, kneeling beside the body of what had once been a strong and resilient woman. Anger sparked in his chest. He raised a livid glare to his priest, his expression demanding an explanation.

"She lost her mind. You should see what she did to the boy." Endeavor said cooly. There was a tension in his jaw, anger flickering in his eyes. He had yet to take his eyes off the corpse in the pharaoh's arms, but he made no move towards her.

"What did you do?" He asked lowly. Silence answered him. This had been no accident. He knew this woman. She had been vibrant, joyful, and eager to please. Powerful in the magical arts. He had sensed changes in her these past years, but had done nothing. She had looked empty the last time he laid eyes on her, when he presented his prince to her and the other members of the upper echelon. Hollowed out and sad, and far too thin for a woman who had just recently given birth. He should've done something then. He knew of Enji's obsessions, but had always chosen to give him the benefit of the doubt. He could have saved her. He laid her down and motioned for the guards to escort his son away. "Let me speak to my priest."

The guards nodded and ushered the wide eyed prince back into the palace, who only lightly protested. The boy turned to look back at his father, rubbing one of his eyes in sleepiness. His tiny mouth pinched in the beginnings of an upset. Toshinori managed to fake a small, reassuring smile to his son as they left, which seemed to satisfy the prince enough that he left without further complaint. The pharaoh turned back to his priest.

"We will speak inside." The words came out in a harsh snap. The pharaoh's eyes had a sharp, angry spark to them, and the shadows around his face made them glow. Enji followed him into the palace, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the cold marble.

The doors groaned to partially shut behind them as they entered one of the palace's many private rooms, a large balcony on the side inviting the night breeze. Long, exaggerated silk curtains lined the corners of the archway, teasing the moonlight as they danced with the soft breeze. Toshinori faced away from Enji, his hands clasped behind him. They were the only two in the room.

"Endeavor, Enji, court priest, councilman... Throughout the several names you have accumulated these many years, I have thought of you as a friend and ally." Toshinori began, his words soft and sure. He brought his palm forward, reaching for the magic within him. In his hands sparked a small, golden flame. "A trusted advisor in the realm of magic." He continued, closing his hand and snuffing it out. He turned to face his priest. "But this is something that cannot be overlooked."

Enji fought to keep his face expressionless, even as the fury crept into his chest. "I've done nothing wrong." He clipped, neglecting to regulate his tone. "That woman lost her mind, burned half the face off of my prized son-"

Toshinori grit his teeth at the words he used. Through his outrage he felt a spark of concern for their children. He would have to send people out to retrieve all four from the home, especially if what Enji was saying was true and one of them was injured. The image of their mother's bruised arms came to the forefront of his mind. No, they couldn't be near their father. They would have to stay in the palace until he got to the truth of the matter. It wouldn't be an issue. His young prince was a sweet, caring soul and would love the company of other children. He grit his teeth, decided.

"Until further notice, I am stripping you of your title." Toshinori said plainly. "I will send for your children, and they will stay here in the palace, beyond your reach, until such a time comes that I know you're innocent of any wrongdoing." He paused, his icy eyes glowing wickedly in the dark. "Or, if you are guilty."

It took a moment for Enji to process what the pharaoh had said, his anger slow to ignite in his shock. His control slipped. Dark red flames blew to life on his arms. He fought to keep them in check, gripping his fists tightly as they flickered with varying intensity. Without his title, he meant nothing. Without his children, his legacy was nothing. Toshinori didn't appear startled or concerned at the magical outburst.

"You can't do this to me." Enji hissed, trembling with fury as the pharaoh turned to leave.

"I will do what's right, Enji." Toshinori stated as he walked past. "That's all I've ever done."

Enji turned and watched as Toshinori strode to the entrance of the room, to inform the guards, and surely the council, of his decision. Enji's flames faintly lit the room and cast long, dark shadows. This fool, this pharaoh, would not take anything from him. Reaching into his scabbard, Enji silently withdrew his sword. On the main doors, the shadow of his figure played out his movements, and Toshinori froze, scarcely moving in time to face him before the long, curved blade sunk deeply into his gut.

Toshinori gasped wetly, staring eye to eye with him in shock. Enji leaned forward so he could whisper in Toshinori's ear. "Now, I will be pharaoh." He hissed, wrenching the blade deeper. "With your magic I will rule all of Egypt!"

A small scream sounded in the corner, and Toshinori managed to turn his head to see his son, the young prince, had been hiding behind one of the pillars. Disbelief fought its way through the pain. He must have managed to sneak past his assigned guard. Enji would kill him.

Clutching the blade in his gut, Toshinori shoved Enji backwards with a burst of power, the bloody sword clattering to the ground between them. Enji slammed into one of the columns, and it cracked upon impact. The pharaoh coughed blood, falling to his knees on the marble floors.

His son ran up to him, tears streaming from his eyes as he clutched the arm of his father's robes. From the other side of the room, Enji was already getting up, the dark flames starting to billow around his whole frame.

"The guards-" Toshinori panted, struggling to dislodge his son's grip. He couldn't let his child be caught in the middle of this fight. If his priest managed to kill him, his sole heir would be next.

His son adamantly shook his head, his body trembling. "Won't leave you!" He cried, his small hand finding the gaping wound in his father's abdomen. The blood stained it red, and his emerald green eyes widened as he stared at it, uncomprehending.

Enji struggled to his feet, wrenching a dagger from his clothes. "I'll kill you both!" He bellowed, the flames swirling around the weapon. The dagger glowed, runes etching onto the blade as the magic ignited it. Gripping the stem, Enji hurled it toward Toshinori.

The young prince launched himself into the blade's path even has his father reached to stop him, his small arm extending towards the weapon. His green eyes lit with an unearthly light, his arms beginning to crackle even as he screamed-

"NOOOOOO!"

In that instant the whole room seemed to explode, light bathing the interior as the prince's magic reduced the dagger and surrounding walls to dust. Enji was thrown backwards, smashing his head into the balcony railing. Toshinori had to shield his eyes as the light blinded him for several seconds. He didn't know his son was capable of such a spell. The sounds of stone and marble cracking deafened him, and he could do nothing but wait until the magic was finished.

When the light faded, Toshinori heard a small thud. Unmasking his eyes, he saw his son had collapsed.

The room was utterly destroyed. Rubble fell from what remained of the ceiling, half of it having been blown off. The moon lit the clouds of dust that billowed from the room interior, the breeze gentle in contrast to the violence that had just occurred, slowly wafting the fumes away from the wreckage. Columns were leaning and broken, the once grand crown molding chipped and split. The tile beneath them was completely shattered in a circle around them. For a child so young, to create this much destruction…

Every one of his heartbeats released another heavy flow of blood from his wound, but even so he managed to grasp his son's limp arm and pull him towards him, cradling his body against his. He had very nearly lost him, due to his own carelessness. His son. His son who had apparently inherited the pharaoh's magic. Shouts reverberated around them, and the half broken room doors slammed open. Toshinori looked up to see the palace guard as they came in a great wave, encircling them. The pain made his head pound, and he was growing dizzy. Even so, he managed to look up when he saw one of the leaders of his guard, Shota, approach them.

"What happened?" Shota said calmly, kneeling down to assess the two of them. "They informed me of the incident that occurred outside." His eyes caught on the wound in the pharaoh's stomach, and he quickly motioned for the guards to bring a healer.

"Enji." Toshinori said simply, forcing a smile. "I should have known."

Shota didn't agree or disagree, simply moving out of the way as the court healer, Chiyo, rushed to them, skidding to a stop in front of him. Her age didn't make her any less efficient, her greying hair pulled up and her wrinkled eyes narrowing as she inspected him. She had been sleeping, as most of the palace was this time of night, but the explosion must have woke her.

"The boy first." Toshinori said weakly, turning his arms forward to hand him to her.

She shook her head. "It's you I'm worried about, pharaoh. You're actively bleeding."

"The boy." He coughed.

Chiyo looked conflicted before finally accepting the toddler into her arms. He appeared unharmed, merely exhausted. Which he would be, if he was the one who cast the spell that destroyed part of the palace. From behind her, she heard angry yells and the sound of someone being dragged. Turning her shoulder, she watched as the guards pulled the unconscious high priest away by his arms. Chiyo shuddered, thinking of the punishment he would suffer for betraying his pharaoh. She turned to Shota, nodding discreetly. She would do a more thorough check on the child later, but for now she needed to treat the pharaoh's wounds.

"He'll be alright, he just needs some rest." She said gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the boy's ear. If only his father was in the same situation.

Shota leaned down and plucked him from her grasp, tucking the child against him. "Then that is what he will get." Shota said simply. He looked down at the pharaoh, who was shaking from blood loss. "Now you, Yagi."

The pharaoh chuckled at the casual use of his name. The laugh quickly turned into a cough, and the blood splattered on his white robes. Chiyo quickly went to his side, pressing a hand to his stomach. The blade had went completely through him, exiting on his back. It had hit several vital organs. She felt her face blanche. Even with her healing magic, she would never be able to fully fix it. But she could close it up, and that was all she needed to do.

"The damage is too extensive. I won't be able to completely restore you." She said softly. A sudden thought hit her, and she struggled to meet the pharaohs gaze as his consciousness dwindled. "What if we use the books?" She said quietly. The books were the epitome of the pharaohs magic, capable of destroying entire nations, or even bringing back the dead. The books would contain the power she needed.

But the pharaoh shook his head quickly. "The books are forbidden." He grit out. Even his life was not worth unleashing their power. "Just...do what you can, Chiyo." He said simply.

Chiyo nodded sadly, reluctantly muttering the proper spell even as the pharaoh's head tilted to the side, his body growing limp as he finally fell into unconsciousness. The healing process would take several hours, and as her hands glowed with the healing magic she was so practiced in, a part of her heart broke knowing the pharaoh would never be the same after this.

Shota turned his head as one of the palace guards gripped his shoulder, whispering in his ear. They had Enji secured, but were unsure what to do next. Shota let his gaze fall on Toshinori, who was no longer able to give orders given his current state. "Chiyo." He said, drawing her briefly from her meditation. "How long until the pharaoh wakes?"

She shook her head, the glow from her hands casting deep, worried lines in her face. "I don't know. It could be days."

That wasn't any good. Enji was a powerful magic user and a hazard to the city if he managed to free himself. The decision would have to be made now. He looked down at the sleeping face in his arms. The prince was far too young to rule in his father's place, and the pharaoh's wife was an amazing ruler herself, but was too gentle to decide on something so gruesome as Enji's punishment. Toshinori wouldn't like it. Shota looked to the guard.

"Then, in the pharaoh's absence, I will make the decision concerning Enji's fate." He said plainly. Nobody objected. He started listing off orders. Balancing the child in his arms, Shota waved down a single man, beckoning him forward. "Wake the queen. Tell her what has happened." Shota told him. The guard nodded, vanishing through the doorway. The royal wing was on the other side of the palace, and it would take a few minutes for her to arrive. Shota deposited the child in another guard's arms. "Stay here with him and the pharaoh." Shota instructed. The guard agreed, being very careful to balance the prince's head.

Surveying the room, Shota took one final look at his downed pharaoh, his gaze narrowing in anger. The entire nation would seek revenge for their injured king. He snapped his fingers, and the rest of the guard followed him out the door.

"We'll take care of Enji."

Battle at Thebes, - "Modern Day" (circa 1940's)

Thebes sucked. It was hot to be in and dull to look at. Weeks of travel, hundreds of miles trekked to reach this place, and Bakugou was less than impressed. Nothing but crumbling columns and walls littered the scorching hot valley. A ghost of what it might have been. It was wholly different from the grand and unearthly visage his fellow soldiers had so excitedly painted for him. No, this place wasn't brimming with treasure. It was laced with something else; something that felt terribly similar to death. And it seemed like it was coming swifter than he would have liked.

"Fuck this sun." Bakugou spat, yanking his rifle out in front of him. It was strapped around his torso with a single worn leather strap, and it groaned in protest as he adjusted it. The sun was merciless on his exposed face, and his brow was steadily beading with sweat and blurring his vision. He spared himself a second to wipe his forehead on his arm, growling in frustration. His uniform was beaten and well worn, beige with long sleeves and a high collar. It protected from sunburn, but it did nothing to help with the heat. The rough canvas material scraped roughly against his skin.

"To arms, men! To arms!" His captain shouted. Sunlight gleamed off of his sword as he waved it proudly above his head. His white, skittish horse was kicking up clouds of dirt as its rider spurred him behind the city's dilapidated wall line.

The captain's rally was sudden and completely unexpected. There was yelling and running as soldiers hurried to take their positions, some tripping and others scrabbling in the sand to retrieve lost ammo dropped in their haste.

Bakugou paid them no mind, eyes narrowing as he calmly loaded his rifle and pointed it to the horizon. He could see them. There, just over the last dune, a billowing plume of sand announced their presence. Bakugou bit back a stream of curses as their figures became more defined. Well over three hundred men at least, all mounted. He felt Mineta shake next to him.

"You really think… they're coming to kill us?" Mineta squeaked out.

"Shut the fuck up." Bakugou hissed. "Are you with me on this or not?"

"O-Of course… Your strength gives me strength." Mineta assured, locking eyes with him.

Even in the hot sun, Bakugou could see the lie etched on the small man's face. He was a poor fucking liar. For the past few months he'd watched the bastard clip cards and gamble with loaded dice, cheating more than a few of the more idiotic men in the group out of their already sparse earnings. And there certainly were a lot of idiots in the garrison.

Bakugou huffed, vocalizing his adamant disbelief in Mineta's statement, and promptly set his eyes back on the horizon, focusing on the oncoming enemies. Steadying his scope, he surveyed the lineup.

Definitely mounted. Black shrouds covered their faces, and they appeared to be wearing tightly wrapped black clothing, the ends flying out behind them as they rode. Their horse's saddles were adorned with beads and brightly colored pompoms, and he was surprised by the intricacy. They rode their horses fast and hard, and he could see the white foam that flecked the corners of their horses' mouths, their eyes white and wild in their stampede. Now that they were closer, he could see their weapons. Some had guns, but the majority of them were wielding scimitars, waving them over their heads as they sounded battle cries.

He spared a glance back at his own defense, hissing in frustration as he looked at the bumbling group of a hundred men, some still struggling to load their guns. These were people he'd spent the last few months with and he knew their battle capabilities. It was going to be a fucking massacre.

His captain must have realized the same thing, his face paling underneath the thick layer of sunburn, his eyes going wide as he dropped his sword in favor of the reins. In a sharp motion, he whipped his horse the other way and swiftly urged his mount in the opposite direction of the unknown enemy, leaving his men slack jawed in his sudden abandonment. A furious heat filled Bakugou's chest.

"Fucking coward!" Bakugou roared, his body twisting towards the fleeing commander. His body trembled with the urge to go after him and beat the man senseless for his desertion, but there was no time. Panicked shouts drew his attention back to the swiftly advancing enemy, who were no more than a few hundred yards away.

"B-Bakugou…" Mineta sniveled, lightly grabbing his pant leg, eyes wide and brimming with tears. He managed a small, shaky laugh. "Looks like you just got promoted."

"Fucking let-" Bakugou viciously kicked his leg free, "Go!" Turning to face the approaching tide of swords, he set the trigger on his rifle and repositioned. "Take aim!" He screamed, setting his scope to track the closest horseman. Only a single beat passed before they complied. The men barely hesitated to obey, as frightened as they were, and he heard the steadying clicks of guns being aimed, ready to fire. Beside him, he heard a small thud. Looking over, he turned to see a lone rifle and a small imprint in the sand where Mineta used to be.

"The fuck…" Bakugou tracked Mineta's retreating figure off in the ruins.

"Wait- wait for me!" Mineta yelled distantly after the captain, stumbling a little in the deep sand.

For some reason, Mineta's chicken run really didn't surprise him. He let out a breath of exasperation.

"Un-fucking-believable." Bakugou deadpanned. He turned back to his scope. "Steady!" He shouted, eyes narrowing on his own target. One hundred and fifty yards…. One hundred yards….Fifty… "FIRE!" Bakugou shouted, and his command was immediately drowned out by the deafening sound of gunfire. The first wave of horsemen were struck, sending both rider and horse crashing to the desert floor.

Their initial volley appeared to be successful, but his men were all shouting and acting wildly now, and would no longer take direction. As the second wave of riders jumped the small rock wall, it became every man for themselves. Bakugou could swear the air was immediately tinted with the smell of blood.

In quick, expert motions, he reloaded in time to shoot another oncoming rider. He lunged to the side to avoid the horse's hooves. His teeth grit together in frustration as he again reloaded, shot, reloaded. They were coming from every direction. He narrowly dodged a lethally swung scimitar, his head jerking sharply to avoid being beheaded. Without breaking eye contact with the rider, he effortlessly shot, finding his mark, before letting his eyes slide over to his next target.

He downed several more men before he ran out of bullets for his rifle. He threw it down, sidestepping through a thundering flurry of panicking horses to make a break for the interior of the ruins, his followers in close pursuit. He felt the slight bite of irony as he glanced down to see the ghost of Mineta's footprints.

He went for the fallen column surrounded by two walls, only taking a second to scramble over the edge. He rolled to break his fall, falling sharply on his shoulder. Without missing a beat, he turned and reached into his pistol holsters, firing two handed as another few riders approached from the left side of the city. Were they coming in from all angles?

He ran opposite to them, heading diagonally. He stuck close to the walls, his sore shoulder occasionally grating the crumbling buildings. The pain kept him focused. Bits of dust nicked at his eyes and he blinked rapidly to keep his vision clean. All in all, the situation was not ideal. The walls and columns provided some semblance of cover, but he had no way of knowing if more of them were waiting for him in the outskirts.

The sound of hoofbeats getting closer sent another thrill of energy through him. His heart ran into overdrive,but he fought to keep himself calm. If he started pumping excess adrenaline, he would be in trouble.

The horses were nearly on him now, and he heard the harsh cuts of a language he didn't recognize. Cutting a corner sharply, he slammed his back on the wall and fired two rounds as a pair of horses flew past. The hooded men went boneless in their saddles, but their mounts continued their reckless gallop. Switching open the chamber of his pistol, Bakugou counted three bullets. The second one only two. Five shots left.

He could hear cries behind him from the rest of the group, no doubt seeing the pair of horses run out of the city with their riders dead. Pushing off his cover, he kept forward. If he stayed still they would find him. Arms pumping, Bakugou couldn't hold back the loud curse that ripped out of his mouth when a few riders came at his right side. Pulling up his pistol, he shot three times in succession, the horses almost plowing him over as their owners fell limp from their seats.

Two shots left. His chances of survival were rapidly dropping. Bakugou flew around another column and saw what appeared to be a tall, stacked building with a narrow doorway. His gaze zeroed in on it, and his legs burned as he ran even faster towards the small opening. The door was a dark, black stone; completely different from the rest of the building. It was inscribed with a variety of hieroglyphs, scattered in an assortment of rows that spanned the whole length of the door. The deeply etched lines portrayed a scene of pictures Bakugou wouldn't even begin to know how to translate, but the door looked thick and heavy enough to keep the mounted warriors at bay and that's all he fucking cared about.

Just less than fifty yards from the entrance, a familiar scream drew his attention. He turned to see Mineta was in the same predicament as he was. Two horsemen were in close pursuit. The one rider had a rifle, and was taking aim with his unoccupied arm, the gun steady despite his furious riding.

Immediately, part of him wanted to ditch Mineta. He was a sleazy fucking asshole. But at the same time, he felt the annoying prickle of honor; and leaving a soldier behind to get shot or beheaded didn't sit well in his stomach.

"Fucking hell." Bakugou snarled, twisting his body around. He whipped his pistol in front of him and fired quickly, his second shot missing the rider but hitting the horse dead center. The horse let out a shrill, distorted bugle as its front legs fell out from underneath it, slamming its rider into the sand. "Mineta!" Bakugou yelled, "Hey where the fuck are you-"

Mineta slammed into his shoulder as he ran past him, knocking him off center. Bakugou stumbled, throwing his arms up in agitation after Mineta's retreating figure. He was headed for the black carved door for cover, not even bothering to wait for him.

"You fucking asshole - I just saved your fucking life, you ungrateful-" Bakugou cut himself off when he saw twenty hooded figures ride around the bend. "Shit- Hey, what-" Bakugou started running towards the building, Mineta already having reached it. His face was still pale, but he had a small, manic grin in his face.

"Hold that door." Bakugou growled, as the realization hit him.

Mineta started pushing it closed, the stone howling in protest.

"Hold that fucking door!" Bakugou roared, pumping his arms faster."You fucking shit, if you close that fucking- God fucking dammit!"

Bakugou slammed his body into the black stone seconds after Mineta shoved it shut, the opening effectively sealed. Bakugou screamed in protest, slamming his fist against the carvings in pure fury.

Shots ricocheted on the stone around him. He had no time to play tug-o-war with the fucking door and Mineta. Partially ducking, he sped around the building only to find himself trapped. His eyes danced desperately around him but he found only tall, disintegrating walls of sand, clay, and stone. They were too steep to climb, and probably far too slippery.

The tall, crumbling walls partially encircled him, and a dark, looming statue of a man with a jackal's head cast its shadow on him. Bakugou felt a sharp chill spark in his spine despite the heat as the figure regarded him from its pitch black throne. The thunder of hooves grew louder behind him as he turned, yanking a dagger from his waist holder. He would die armed. He ripped his gaze away from the statue to face the oncoming horsemen who were nearly upon him, steeling his resolve.

The entire group came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the statue. Their faces blanched as their horses reared in shock, eyes white in panic. Foam spat from their mouths as the riders yanked the reins sharply backwards, whipping their heads around. They all shouted in a haze of mixed phrases and petrified cries. They seemed to be terrified of something, wrenching their horses in the opposite direction, not even pausing for the mere second it would take to shoot him down. Bakugou could only watch in shock as their horses bolted, and in less than ten seconds they were disappearing behind the crumbling, aged walls of the ruins.

A few seconds passed as Bakugou's heart pounded thickly in his chest. His heavy, ragged breathing momentarily stealing his voice.

"The… the fuck?" Bakugou managed, lowering his dagger. They just… left? He slowly put his dagger back in its holster, his thoughts racing. Did they think he had something else on him? A bomb?

The cold, icy chill in his spine intensified, and he spun around to face the statue again, his eyes widening as he took in the sight before him. The eyes on the jackal were glowing a vivid red, and the figure took on a lifelike element that set off all his warning bells. He would swear he could see the faint lines of wisping smoke emanating from the creature's mouth, its eyes hissing like hot embers. He took a few steps backwards, the air around him becoming unstable and unreal, his mind wildly certain the statue would at any second gain the power to stand up and chase him itself.

Whispers sounded in his ears, and Bakugou jerked his head from side to side to try to pinpoint the noise. The ground began to rumble underneath him, and he cursed as he rapidly stepped backwards. Sand began flying out from the ground in small geysers, some of them just barely missing him.

"Fuck!" Bakugou grit, running from the statue. He didn't believe in this kind of shit. The curse upon the city, the magic that the soldiers and passing travelers said it had held. They were all myths meant to entertain the weak of mind or the bumbling drunks around the campfire late at night. But here, now, Bakugou was struck with the feeling of sudden uncertainty.

The whispers behind him became louder as the sand started to spit and shake with more ferocity. An unearthly bellow shook stone and dust from the ruins as the wind began to whip and howl - snapping and grasping at his hair and clothes as he ran out of the city, now eerily empty save for the few dead souls who regarded him with blank, vacant expressions.

...

Watching from atop a cliff, Shouto kept a close eye on the skirmish below. The garrison had been successfully wiped out, and they had lost only about 30 of their men in the process. He watched somberly as the rest of his men galloped out of the city to regroup, no doubt fearful of the lurking power of Hamunaptra. The amount of men they lost was a small price to pay to keep that power and the city a secret. He readjusted the reins in his hands as his horse shuddered and pranced in frustration from standing still. Shouto placed his hand soothingly on his neck and the horse calmed.

"There is one still alive!" A man exclaimed.

Surprised, Shouto looked up from his horse and saw that sure enough, a single remnant of the paltry garrison was escaping from the city. His hair was blonde and wild, and he had a fierce expression on his face. Shouto had watched this one during the battle, and he had grudgingly assented he was a force to be reckoned with, having fought hard and without fear.

The man beside him who had initially noticed him was stirring up his horse in preparation to follow. He was stopped only when Shouto grabbed his reins.

"No… don't bother." He dismissed. He had watched this man, even if the others hadn't, and he would risk no more of his people. "The desert will kill him." He assured, watching the escaped fighter. As though he could sense he was being watched, the man turned and locked eyes with Shouto.

They were fierce, angry eyes. Shouto could feel their heat even from here. The man scowled and made a sharp, neck cutting motion before breaking his gaze and disappearing into the desert.

"I am not so sure." His one soldier said uneasily.

Shouto couldn't stop the small, amused smile that crept onto his face.