Firstly, this is a revision of the original fic of the same name. Rather than take it down, I decided to replace chapters slowly. Please bear with me as I take things chapter by chapter.
Secondly, please note the rating details in the summary. There will be sexual content if not rather quickly. If you take any issue with such content, I would advise trying another story.
Lastly and most importantly, I'm pleased to announce that this is now a collaborative project with Gweniveve Skyes who is awesome and amazing and quite frankly you have to thank for this story even being a thing.
We hope you enjoy the first part of the revision.
Please keep all emotions and limbs inside during the duration of this crazy ride. Thanks.
. : Dances with Fate : .
Prologue
It called to him.
Like a melody only he could hear, drawing him like a siren's call. Flashes of memory of thoughts unbidden, not of his own, lured him here, to the site that he never should've come back to. Starlight flowed across the dunes, the air still and silent, calls of jackals in the distance, their yips echoing across the landscape.
He shivered from the night cold and pulled the headscarf even tighter; the long flowing robes he wore allowing him to blend in with the locals that worked at a dig nearby. They hadn't realized that he wasn't a worker. The bundle of rope he brought with him was draped loosely over one shoulder, a canvas rucksack dangling from the other. If he recalled correctly, the site had collapsed deep into the earth, forcing him to shimmy downwards. He prayed that the rope climbing sessions in gym class were enough to prevent him from slipping and falling.
The landscape was an ever shifting kaleidoscope of sand and erosion, for treasures to emerge only to be lost to the ravages of time shortly thereafter. Thankfully there were enough recognizable formations of stone, guiding him in the right direction. He was getting closer, just a little longer. . .
Then, there it was. Or, wasn't. Between the rising dunes was a patch of black in the sand. Approaching it, he pulled his flashlight from where it hung at his side and pointed it down. The dark below all but ate away at the light, telling of unseen depth. Tying the light back at his side, he stepped over to one of the few sections of rock nearby and began pulling rope around it. Knots double-checked, he then made his way down through the hole.
Only when there was solid ground underfoot did he let go of the rope. In the dark here, even his own breaths sounded too loud. Making use of his flashlight again, he cast its light around slowly, finally able to see what had become of the place.
There was hardly anything left of what it had been before, full of broken pillars and piles of rubble. Sand liberally coated everything and where his flashlight shone, motes of sand floated. The air was stagnant and musty, like that of old papers and the passage of time. He coughed and brought the headscarf about his mouth and nose, filtering out the dust and sand in the air. An improvised filter, but it would make due for the time being. Bits of stone were crushed underfoot with each step, the noise echoing eerily in the expansive and ruined space.
And still the memories called.
He continued on his trek, steps cautious yet sure. He made his way around shattered pillars, his free hand brushing against the hieroglyphics that were carved into them, tales of gods and kings forever recorded. It was difficult to tell precisely how large the chamber was, for most of it was obscured by rubble and sand. He brought the flashlight around, shining the beam in front.
There it was.
The Eye of Wadjat was just as imposing and solid as ever, untouched by the collapsing tomb all about him. As if nothing had happened. Nothing monumental, nothing earth shattering just at the feet of the Eye. Never blinking, always watching. Some yards in front of the edifice stood what he had been seeking. A slab of black marble, the sarcophagus of a pharaoh carved into it with great care and precision. The marble had been cracked along the center, the serene visage of the mysterious pharaoh broken clean in two. Amidst the halves of the slab lay jewelry of glimmering gold; the light of the flashlight gave each piece an an unearthly shine.
He reverently crept forward, heart increasing in beat and fervor.
The memories were louder than ever.
The Pharaoh's voice rang in his head.
He knelt in front of the Millennium Stone, the air buzzing with power. The Items, nestled in the cradle of marble, seemed to pulse with a life of their own, thrumming with energy. They were what he was here for. This was his purpose.
Leaning heavily on the stone, he reached across, his fingertips barely brushing the burnished gold of the Millennium Necklace. All seven Items were there, fully intact and unharmed. But he wasn't here for all of them. He stretched as far as he could but the Necklace was still tantalizing out of reach. So he stood on his tip toes and strained, but he lost his balance fell forward onto the stone with an 'oof'.
At least he could reach the Items now. He fumbled for the rucksack and opened it with the drawstrings. He seated himself onto the stone, plucking the few he needed.
The Necklace
The Ring.
The Rod.
The Millennium Puzzle lay there, tempting him but he resisted the urge to abscond with that as well. It was empty now, nothing more than a block of gold, devoid of anything that made it special in the first place.
He tightened the drawstrings of the rucksack, his goal achieved. He turned about and slid off the stone, the Items softly clinking against each other in the sack as he made his way out.
The chamber was filled with darkness once more, the Eye of Wadjat forever judging, not realizing what has just occurred in its unblinking gaze.
. : End Prologue : .
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