Prologue
Sands of Time

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story from The Mummy (1999) except for my OCs.

Here are some terms to know:

Anubis: The jackal-headed God who was the conductor of souls and the judge of the pure of heart in the Temple of Two Truths. He was the original lord of the underworld. He is said to have created mummification to resurrect Osiris when he was killed by his brother Set (or Seth).

Duat: The Ancient Egyptian underworld.

Temple of Two Truths: The golden hall where Anubis took the deceased' heart and weighed it against a feather of truth. The dead would be taken to meet Osiris if the heart was pure. If the feather was heavier, their heart was eaten by a demon, and the Soul ceased to exist forever.

Osiris: Egypt's first pharaoh (according to myths) and the God of the world. Once his brother, Set, killed him, he became the God of the Underworld.

"The impious Soul screams: I burn; I am ablaze; I know not what to cry or do; wretched me, I am devoured by all the ills that compass me about; alack, poor me, I neither see nor hear! This is the Soul's chastisement of itself. For the Mind of the man imposes these on the Soul." ― Muata Ashby, Ancient Egyptian Proverbs .

~1290BCE

The stench of blood filled the air. Screams perforated his eardrums. Imhotep sat helpless on the sand, held down by the Medjai who restrained him. All around him, he heard his closest friends, his fellow priests, being tortured. Many of them screamed out for him, for his help. And many screamed out for help from the Gods.

Imhotep's eyes glistened with furious tears. There was nothing that he could do. He thought of his last moments with Ancksunamun. It had only been days since he'd last felt her soft body in his. Since he had smelled her gently spiced skin and felt her forgiving lips against his. Her dark eyes burned into his memory. The last words she spoke to him, with such trust and conviction, haunted him.

"You must go!" she pleaded, fear clouding her eyes, the desperation in them making them appear darker.

"No!" He would not leave her. He would face the Medjai alone. He would alone face the consequences. He would not allow her to take the fall for this.

"Only you can resurrect me!" she pleaded, holding onto his arm with conviction. She believed that he would leave her? Had she this much trust in his abilities? He had never brought someone back from the dead before. He searched her face, looking for any trace of disbelief, but he only saw immeasurable trust and love. Imhotep faltered for a second, becoming entranced by her beauty. The depth of his love for her overwhelming him temporarily.

The heavy gold doors were heaved open with great force, knocking many of Imhotep's priests out of the way. The spell she held over him was broken.

"No! I will not leave you!" he yelled as his priests scrambled from their hiding places.

"My lord," whispered one of the priests, "We must go! There is no time!"

Imhotep was held tight, his priests grabbing him under the arms. Imhotep fought against their hold. "Get away from me!"

He looked back to Ancksunamun and saw the determination on her face replace the fear. Her eyes had gone completely black. There was nothing there save the depth of her love for him written all over her face. She ran her hands over his face, barely touching it, but not quite. The gesture was potent in its simplicity. A shiver of fear washed over Imhotep; he could not imagine life without her. He looked deep into her eyes as his priests pulled him away.

"You shall live again! I will resurrect you!" he screamed as he was pulled away. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He didn't want to forget her beauty, vitality, and essence of life. Vowing to do all in his power to bring her back to the land of the living.

As he was pulled behind the veil of Seti's palace curtains, he could no longer see her. Imhotep fought against the hold on his priests once again.

"Kher-heb! Let go of me!" the desperation seeking its way into his voice. "I cannot leave her!" Imhotep turned a look of crazed anger on the small priest.

Kher-heb had been his closest confidant living in the temple. Though Imhotep was the High Priest and Vizier to Seti, he considered all his priest's family. The older priest had become a father to him in Imhotep's many years at the palace. Kher-heb had been the only one Imhotep had confided in about Ancksunamun. He was the only one who knew the true depth of their tempestuous and passionate love affair.

The small man, covered head to toe in gold paint, held stead-fast on Imhotep's arm. His dark eyes pierced Imhotep's crazed and bloodshot ones.

"Imhotep," Kher-heb implored, "This is not wise. We have to keep moving! The Medjai will know you were a part of Setis's murder, and we cannot risk capture."

Imhotep's breath came out in gasps, "Please...please, I have to see her. I need to know how they do it." He felt dizzy and nauseous. Kher-heb looked at Imhotep sternly. Imhotep looked back into the priest's eyes. He challenged him to undermine his desire to see her, as he had done many times before.

"This is not wise…." Kher-heb began to say but stopped when Imhotep started to dry heave, "But if you must... hurry!" Imhotep glanced at the priest in a silent thank you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Kher-heb nodded to the other priests to relax their grip on Imhotep's arm. They quickly led him toward a statue of Anubis that was within earshot.

Looking around the statue, they could see the Medjai standing over the body of Seti. Their mouths hung open in disbelief. The head of Medjai, Amenhemti, looked up now at the small woman who stood in front of them. Before he could speak, Ancksunamun sent a look of pure hatred toward Amhenhemti.

"My body is no longer his temple!" Ancksunamun enunciated each word, her hatred for Seti seeping through her teeth. She began to raise her arms as she spoke, and she plunged the knife into her womb at the last word. The same blade she had used to kill Seti. The look of extreme hatred never left her face as she crumpled to the floor.

The palace was silent. From behind a statue, Imhotep wept. His Priests grabbed him under his arms again and dragged him out of the palace as fast as possible. They could not be caught now.

Imhotep let them take his body with them. He had resigned himself to the promise he had made Ancksunamun not even moments ago. He would go to the ends of the earth for her. He would do everything within his power to hear her soft, lilting voice again. To feel her silky hair and soft skin on his fingertips.

Imhotep reflected on the events of the past few days. His skin was beginning to hurt from sitting on the sand for so long. He had been kept in the corner of the Sarnechi to witness the torture of his closest family and friends. He had failed them all. Mostly he had failed her. He didn't care what they did to torture him now. There was nothing worse than breaking his promise to her.

The screams that echoed around him had begun to ease. The wet sounds of organs dropping to the floor began to lessen. Imhotep looked up in time to see Amenhemti coming towards him, a big smile plastered on his face.

"Oh, Imhotep, we saved the best for last," Amenhemti said. Oily, he continued. "Oh yes, you are our most honored guest here tonight, for you will never know the reprise of death."

Imhotep looked confused at Amenhemti, his eyes searching his face.

"Don't look so confused. You knew this fate awaited you when you decided to desecrate the Gods and destroy our kingdom." Amenhemti spat, the smile no longer on his face; it had been replaced with a cold look of vehemence. "You studied this curse when you took a vow to work for Anubis and Osiris in the Duat. Even you are not immune to its powers."

Imhotep's eyes widened. He was not able to respond before another Medjai came towards him with a knife. The Medjai that held him in place clamped down harder, and one forced open his mouth. The cold blade made contact with his hot flesh, and Imhotep tried to scream but was choked with his own blood. Suddenly, he was lifted onto a table and held down with calloused hands.

His mouth was freed, but all he could taste was the metallic taste of his own life force. A strap was placed over his abdomen, further holding him down to the table. He felt linen being wrapped tight around his feet. Imhotep struggled against the weight of the hands on him as the linen gauze came closer and closer to his head. He searched around wildly, wanting to be freed from his prison.

The world turned black as his last view of human light was diminished. All that existed was pain, excruciating pain. But it was still not enough to lessen the pain in his heart for how he had failed his love.

All of a sudden, he was being lifted and carried from the table. He felt his back his hard stone as he was dropped into a stone sarcophagus. The fear began to come back, and he struggled against it. Imhotep desperately tried to take deep breaths, but the linen fibers clogged his lungs. He tried to cough, but the gauze was too tight against his abdomen.

Imhotep thrashed in his stone prison as he heard laughter come from the right of him.

"Ah, Imhotep, all those years of you thinking that you were better than us. That you could outsmart us. Do you really think we didn't know about you and the concubine?" The voice spat the last word.

"Did you think that you could get away with it? Seti was the greatest pharaoh to have ever lived, and you…." the voice moved to his left side now, coming up to his ear, whispering, "You are nothing. You won't even make it to the Field of Reeds, and your little whore? She is cursed with you. How does that make you feel?"

Knowing that Imhotep couldn't answer, the voice laughed heartily. "I bet you didn't think that through, oh high and mighty Lord Imhotep. Your God won't even be there to welcome you…."

"Come on, can we hurry this up? It's past dinner time," another voice to the right of Imhotep whined.

The voice near his left ear spoke again to the other man, but Imhotep could not hear. He had cursed Ancksunamun to the same fate as him? Imhotep felt immeasurable anger boil up inside him, and he twisted in his sarcophagus. The blood inside his mouth had begun seeping through the linen as he tried to scream.

Without warning, the weight of thousands of skittering bodies covered him. Running up and down his body, tickling him, catching their little legs on the linen. One scarab found its way under the gauze and began biting his skin. Imhotep cried and screamed in pain. More and more mouths began their steady brigade of feasting upon his flesh. In the distance, Imhotep could hear the words that were being spoken to condemn him.

O Osiris, hear our plea
The body of thee shall be wasted flesh
Never to see the halls of your Temple
Never to see the Field of Reeds
The flesh of thee will be cursed
To be the undead for all time
The feather of Ma'at shall never be weighed
in the Temple of Two Truths
The Soul before you,
too loathsome and cruel.

O Osiris, hear our words
Upon you, curse the flesh
To bring up the fears of all man
To destroy the world once more
Never to become the sovereign King of the land of the living
Only to be a fearsome creature|
Curse the body of one other
Lay waste to all of Egypt
He hath smite our holy king.

O Osiris, hear our prayer
The one we have condemned
May he never feel the pleasures of the flesh
May he never breathe our air
He will only be the undead
To suffer for all of eternity
To feel the weight of his sins on his back wherever he may go
Smite him
O Osiris, hear our plea

As the Medjai spoke the words to condemn him, the large stone sarcophagi top was placed upon his stone tomb. Imhotep screamed and screamed, but no one could hear. The air in his lungs began dissipating, and he started to panic. He ripped at the linen with all his might, struggling under the hordes of scarabs that ate away at his flesh. He didn't know how long he had been closed off from the world. The burning in his chest never seemed to cease, as he never succumbed to the sweet release of death. The pain was eternal.

In one last desperate move, Imhotep sprang free of the linen holding down his arms. The scarabs had eaten away at most of it by now. He began to claw against the stone, anything to stop the oppressive burning in his lungs. Every movement he made was futile. It was dark, but Imhotep was aware of the strange sensation of wet flesh. His arms and hands felt lighter; still, he scratched at the heavy stone lid above him. Finally, as he began to feel as if his head would burst from lack of air, Imhotep gave up.

He thought of Ancksunamun. Thought of her warm, soft body and how, when he held her, it melded perfectly into his own. He thought of her large dark eyes that looked at him with love whenever she lay with him. The golden sparkles in her eyes entranced him. Imhotep felt a flutter in his heart at the thought of her. He was momentarily distracted from the agonizing pain.

A scarab burrowed its way into his heart, eating away at the still-beating flesh. Not even noticing, Imhotep felt rage building in his torn heart. These men, who thought so little of him, had condemned him to this fate. And why? Didn't they know that they, too, were tied to his fate? They were cursed with him.

With the scarab eating away at his heart, Imhotep felt the burning anger take hold. One that he had never felt before; it almost overrode the pain. He would make this right. He would resurrect his love once more, no matter what it took. He began to feel strange and lightheaded. With one final scream, Imhotep began to scratch out the only words that came to mind on the stone before him. Death is only the beginning.

AN: This is the first story that I have written in years, so if you could leave a review, that would be amazing!