My dear fellow enthusiasts of museum exhibits, welcome to my little (giant) story :)

Before I start, I must get a few things off my chest. First and foremost, I want to thank my awesome beta reader IKindaWriteSometimes, without whom this would have never been possible. Honestly, thank you so much!

I will try to keep this story as historically accurate as possible, but there will be a few alterations I will have to make in order for this story to work. So please, don't come at me with torches and pitchforks :D

Naturally, I don't own any characters from either of the movies, merely my OCs and the plotline. There is going to be A TON of ancient Egyptian translations and background information, which I will list at the beginning of every chapter.

Lastly, if you like to leave a review, I would be overjoyed!

Alright, enough with the talking, here we go.

~References~

-Nebet-Tawi: Mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt

What were the odds on discovering a pharaonic tomb in one's life? One to one billion? One to ten billion? Vanishingly low, that much was obvious. What about finding an undiscovered tomb in one that had already been explored? Nearly impossible, simple as that. That's what Rashad Malik thought, too, when he examined the final resting place of Pharaoh Ahkmenrah with his team. On a torrid Tuesday, destiny resolved to convince him of the contrary. It was stuffy underground, the air dry. They wanted to gather as much information about the forgotten King as they could. After all, science now had technologies at its disposal no one dared to dream about when the tomb was first excavated in 1938. Rashad's intention on this fateful Tuesday was to measure the chamber anew.

Jimmy, the intern, was just rigging up the rangefinder when he accidentally bumped one foot of the tripod into a wall. As it was bound to happen, the colorfully painted plaster in the bottom right corner chipped off and crumbled to little platelets. In between Jimmy's reeled apologies and the constricting thought of chucking his career in, the Egyptologist noticed something strange: beyond the knocked off plaster, chiseled sandstones layered on top of each other, kept together by hastily applied mortar. His fingers were damp with sweat as he examined the spot of the mishap. The wall was without a doubt brick-built, not hewn into stone like the remaining ones. He tried to calm his heart, but he didn't succeed. What reason could the workers back then have had to erect a wall in this sepulcher? It didn't make any sense, the only built walls down here were...

Pathways!

Looking over to his colleagues, he realized that they must have come to the same conclusion as him. The researchers stood there for a while, gaping at each other, unable to comprehend just what Jimmy's heedlessness had brought to light. The following weeks went by in a mix of phone calls, meetings and press conferences with countless discussions led. Should they break through the obstacle and forever destroy the detailed paintings in the process, or was it better to just let the matter rest and disregard what could be the greatest archaeological discovery in history? At last, Rashad's workmates were the ones to come up with a middle way. The bit of the wall that had fallen victim to the tripod was already exposed, with a bit of effort, even a grown man could squeeze himself through, without having to remove more of the cladding. And so, the decision was indefinitely simple.

Just a few cameramen had permission to broadcast the opening of the wall; too much bustle could have unnecessarily jeopardized the ancient tomb. The world stopped breathing when Rashad worked his chisel through the stone, as carefully as he could. It took hours, but a machine might have reduced the burial site to ashes with its vibrations. When he finally didn't feel any more resistance beneath his tool, he shone his flashlight into the hole and felt faint. Priceless treasures piled up behind the cold, yielding, stony warden. Everything was still there: Furniture, implements, clothes, and jewelry. Time seemed frozen in this small chamber. Still, nothing could have prepared him for what he caught sight of at the far end of the room. At that precise moment he knew he was one of the aforementioned few; the lucky ones, the one-in-a-billion. He, Rashad Malik, had stumbled across an undiscovered tomb in one that had already been known, defying every theory of probability.

Behind a chair and a chest, he detected a golden sarcophagus, carried by a lion-headed bier. With the greatest caution, but spurred on by his curiosity, he hacked away until the hole was big enough to let him through. He nodded to his team, adjusted the protective mask over his mouth and nose and crawled into the other room. Excitement spread between those who followed. Dust and rubble scrunched beneath them, but the sounds petered out in the millennium-old silence. His colleagues and the cameramen only dared to whisper, looking around, pointing hither and yon. The head Egyptologist approached the coffin first. His trembling flashlight beam floated over the hieroglyphics that were incorporated into the valuable metal. They formed a name there:

Neferet-Meritaset.

A rustle swished through his ears and his head was weightless for a moment, then the awareness hit him with the force of a cannonball.

Neferet-Meritaset. Neferet-Meritaset, Nebet-Tawi.

Queen Neferet-Meritaset.

They had discovered the burial chamber of Ahkmenrah's enigmatic Queen! Rashad dropped his flashlight in shock.

The passageway had to be enlarged slightly to move their equipment through. After a few days, everything was ready for them to open the sarcophagus. Slowly, the cable winch fastened to the lid set into motion. Inch by inch the heavy load was lifted, until they could finally shove it out of its mounting and set it to the ground. A second sarcophagus appeared, smaller than the first one but not any less superb. Accusatory alabastrine eyes stared them down and observed every move they made. The casket was elaborately wrought, just like the first one. Its vibrant colors had survived the millennia of their seclusion unscathed. For a second time, the machine heaved the tremendous weight of the lid, Rashads nerves were stretched to breaking point. He peered inward and saw...

Nothing.

Faces swam around the girl in dead silent darkness. She was trapped between them, could turn nowhere without having eyes following her. Like a shoal of fish, they hovered in the emptiness and dashed back into nothingness when she reached for them. She could only watch, reduced to inaction. There was a young man with short, black hair. A small child with curls. An old woman, whose deeply lined face had once been radiant with beauty. Every single face evoked a feeling of familiarity inside of her and her head almost burst because she couldn't remember why.

The buzzing creatures slowly went up in smoke, not bothering to give an answer. All they left behind was a searing pain. The girl felt like her heart was ripped in two, while at the same time, it throbbed so hard she was barely able to breathe. Amidst her inner agony she felt a glance sticking to her like a fly stuck on the glue of a flytrap. It was so sad, she was in danger of suffocating on it.

"Why?", a hoarse voice whispered, resonating from the darkness like from a gorge.

Panicked, she fought to lift her feet from the ground and escape the anguish this spherical being inflicted on her, but she only moved in slow motion. With every second she struggled forward, the gaze grew more intense. With every step she took, the voice grew louder.

"Why?"

As much as she wanted to answer, she couldn't. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. The tears that flooded her eyes could not fall and threatened to drown her. The voice had increased to an unbearable volume, forceful enough to shatter her eardrums.

"Why?!"