𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | (𝐆)𝐈-𝐃𝐋𝐄

𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞

The desert had a way of getting under your skin. Not just the heat, or the sand, or the isolation—but something deeper. Something ancient.

Minnie wiped the sweat from her brow, her fingers stained with centuries-old dust. She’d been on dozens of digs before, but this one felt different. She couldn’t explain it. The air had changed the moment they arrived—thicker somehow, like it was waiting to exhale.

It was supposed to be another quiet excavation. An old site tucked away in the heart of the desert, whispered about in forgotten texts. But when they unearthed the stone steps leading to a burial chamber, Minnie’s breath caught in her throat.

She didn’t say it out loud, but she knew: this wasn’t just another ruin.

It was her third night sleeping at the dig site when she saw it—saw her. Not a mirage, not a hallucination from too much sun. Just… a feeling. A presence. Something that tugged at the edge of her dreams and whispered her name in a voice too soft to be real.

Miyeon.

The name came to her as naturally as breath.

And then, on the fourth day, they found the sarcophagus.

It was beautiful. More intricate than anything Minnie had ever seen—smooth ivory stone carved with symbols that didn’t quite match anything known. Delicate etchings of stars, roses, and a pair of clasped hands surrounded the lid like a farewell.

She was the first to touch it.

Her fingertips grazed the carvings, and something inside her cracked open. Like she was remembering something she’d never known.

And then—movement.

The world slowed.

A gust of wind rushed through the chamber though they were buried deep beneath the sand. Lights flickered. Dust rose like breath held for too long finally being released.

And the sarcophagus creaked.

Her team screamed. Someone ran.

But Minnie didn’t move.

The lid shifted aside, and out of it rose a woman—no, something more than human. Wrapped in ancient bandages, her skin pale and preserved, her dark hair fanned out like midnight.

Her eyes found Minnie’s instantly. And stayed there.

“Minnie...” the name escaped her lips, dry and aching, like it had been waiting lifetimes to be spoken again.

Minnie stumbled back. “You—you said my name,” she whispered, heart pounding.

Miyeon stepped forward, slow and uncertain, the sound of her movement a mix of silk and ash. She didn’t speak again, but her gaze held a question. Or maybe it held everything.

Fear should’ve taken over. Minnie knew that. A reanimated corpse rising from the dead? That was textbook horror movie.

But all she could feel was want.

A need so visceral it terrified her. It wasn’t just attraction—it was like she’d found something she hadn’t known she was missing.

And then Miyeon reached for her.

Minnie didn’t flinch. She let the cold fingers graze her cheek, the touch so gentle it made her eyes sting. The past swirled around them—visions she didn’t understand flooding her mind.

A palace. A garden at dusk. Two women tangled in secret kisses beneath moonlight.

A queen and her handmaid. One bound by duty. One burned by devotion.

They were them.

“I tried to wait,” Miyeon murmured, voice broken and raw, like wind over bone. “But they buried me before you could come back.”

Tears spilled down Minnie’s cheeks. She didn’t know why she was crying—she barely understood what was happening—but her heart knew. On a level that defied logic.

She touched Miyeon’s hand. Held it to her chest. “I’m here now.”

Miyeon leaned closer, their foreheads brushing. It felt like both an ending and a beginning.

But it couldn’t last.

The sands of time weren’t kind. They never were.

Miyeon’s body trembled. Her bandages began to fray, turning to dust. Her form shimmered, like whatever magic had brought her back was fading with the rising sun.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered, desperation laced into every syllable.

“Then stay,” Minnie begged, holding her tighter.

But Miyeon only smiled—a sad, resigned smile that shattered Minnie’s heart.

“Even love can’t outrun time.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Minnie fell to her knees, clutching the empty space where Miyeon had stood. All that remained was a rose—fresh and impossibly red—lying atop the sand.

She never told the others what happened. They wouldn’t have believed her.

But she knew.

She carried Miyeon’s story in her heart—written in a language no one else could read. A love story that had survived the tomb. A promise that would echo in every grain of desert wind.

Somewhere in time, they had loved.

And maybe, somewhere far beyond it… they still did.