~The writer repeats herself: Thanks to my wonderful reviewers and my wonderful readers. ~
When his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the next chamber he faced something most extraordinary. On a golden sofa by the wall a girl was sleeping peacefully. Ardeth approached her cautiously, almost scared and touched her throat, trying to sense the movement of blood in her veins. But there was no movement. And now he noticed that she didn't breath. The girl wasn't sleeping. She was dead. Her skin was cold and her face pale. She was dressed like an Egyptian, in a white linen dress and delicate golden jewels. She was amazingly beautiful, despite the fact that she was dead. Unlike most Egyptians she had fair hair and a light complexion. Ardeth tried to understand this miracle. She must have been dead for thousands of years, yet. . . He slowly checked the room around him trying not to be distracted and to be more cautious. In was full of beautiful furniture but this didn't made any difference to him. Seeing nothing interesting he moved to the next room.
He gasped as soon as he entered. Another dead man, appearing perfectly healthy. This time he recognized the body. It was the one who had carried him in there in the dream. But then, Ardeth toughed shocked sooner or later he would meet his own dead body, if everything was real. He wasn't prepared for something like that. He checked the room determined to go on until he found something helpful. Unlike the other it was empty apart from himself and the dead man who was lying on the floor. Ardeth made for the next door with slow, reluctant steps. Suddenly he felt a strong desire to leave this place and the dead people immediately. * And my task? And the people killed? Am I going to let them down? What if I really find something useful in here? * he closed his eyes and took one more step trying to ignore the dead man who seemed suddenly so alive. . .
This room was the last and the smallest. It was also the only one Ardeth could recognize from the dream. The big bed with the linen curtains. . . But then his own body should be here. With a hand not far from trembling Ardeth lifted the curtain. There was only one body in the bed and that was not his. He almost let a sigh of relief and looked at the body. That was the woman from the dreams, in flesh and blood. She was as dead as the others but unlike them she had an obvious wound on the abdomen. Ardeth touched it. The blood has not dried. This woman could have been killed a few hours ago. Suddenly a red spot on the other side of the bed drew his attention. It was blood right before the pillow, where someone's neck should be. In his dream he was wounded at the back of the neck. Now he started feeling really weird.