[DISCONTINUED UFN] BENEATH SANDS OF BLOOD ⟶ THE MUMMY 1999/2017

𝐯𝐢𝐱 ⟶ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝

⊱▬▬▬║≬≬≬║▬▬▬⊰

"Leave this city or die."

⊱▬▬▬║≬≬≬║▬▬▬⊰

HAMUNAPTRA
1926

║ AHMANET ║

SHE COULD FEEL HIS PAIN THROUGH THESE WALLS. Ahmanet moved through the dark corridors of her brother's tomb, and she imagined that if she closed her eyes, she'd hear his screams from thousands of years ago. The mortals had no idea the pain, the anguish, that these walls held.

She moved through quietly, the crimson of her dress almost pitch black in the darkness. At her neck once again glittered gold, and gold strands were woven into singular strands of her hair. Kohl lined her eyes, more crimson glittering on her eyelids. There was work to be done, but she was growing closer to her end goal, and thus, the work was getting more and more simpler.

The mortals were stupid enough to orchestrate their own destruction from this point on.

Almost.

She simply needed to nudge them in the right direction with a few well-timed hints here and there. Perhaps, left alone, they would do what she needed them to do, but they might also fail. Ahmanet couldn't take the risk that she'd have to start this all over again. Not when she could practically feel her brother at her side again, feel Anck-su-Namun begging to be freed. So the woman paced on, and even in the dark, critters scattered away from her presence.

The sarcophagus was uncovered, but now she needed to lead them to it. Sounds of conversation soon floated to her, and she recognized the voices of the pesky little group she had integrated herself into. Ahmanet whispered something to herself, watching as the group discovered another chiseled tunnel and decided to follow it through, Rick in the lead with his torch held high and his gun ready to fire.

Foolish man, she mused. Mortals often thought they could hurt immortals. What lay down here couldn't be harmed by any mortal weapon.

She took another tunnel, leading her to a small room that held millennia of broken limestone blocks and golden hieroglyphs that flickered ominously in the torchlight. Somewhere under there, unbeknownst to the mortals currently milling about, skeletons of past explorers lay. Imhotep may be imprisoned, but evil still lurked within these walls, devouring whatever it could.

Ah. There was her little ragtag group of adventurers, but there was also that other group. That squirrelly little man - Beni, was it? - was in the lead. Strange chanting filled the room, and she recognized it as ancient murmurings of Imhotep's priests from millennia earlier. Eerie chanting, but nothing more than ghostly echoes.

"Ya scared the bejeezus out of us, O'Connell," one man remarked, giving pause to Ahmanet. Perhaps this encounter would be amusing to watch.

"Likewise," he snarked back.