Amandewin's steps are shaky as he approached the opening of the tomb. Bedecked in fragrant lilies and the sweet scent of jasmine, vanilla, and citrus wafting from his warm body as he was bathed in those essential oils earlier as part of the preparation ceremony; Win looked like a radiant bride on her way to the altar. This couldn't be farther from the truth.
Win touched the ankh that appeared on his neck the morning after he dreamt of the immortal pharaoh. Dreaming of the immortal pharaoh is like a death sentence as he was believed to pick the next human sacrifice through dreams. No one can escape their fate, not even the royal prince Win. No one can do anything about this, not even the current Pharaoh, Win's father.
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The Ankh symbol
"Why am I so unlucky?" Win sobbed as he tried to carry himself with his dignity and pride intact despite his cruel fate. He has no choice but to offer up his soul to the soulless immortal lest his people suffer the wrath of the gods through famine, pestilence, and natural calamities. What the immortal pharaoh wants, he has to get it or there would be dire consequences.
Win grew up to see various people, men and women disappear all of a sudden and it was only when he reached puberty that he learned about the reason for these disappearances. Every autumn, the immortal pharaoh needs to be appeased with a human sacrifice. No one survived to tell what happens once they set foot inside the main pyramid's inner sanctum, and no one knew what happened to those people who had the misfortune of being chosen by the pharaoh through those nocturnal visits.
The prince can still vividly remember his dream as if it really happened during his waking hours. He can still feel the pharaoh's warm breath on his skin, his rough hands touching places that have never been kissed by the sun, his musky scent spiced with hints of frangipani, lavender, and frankincense. He felt his cheeks heat up at the memory, dulling the fear that is now coursing rapidly through his veins.
He didn't see the pharaoh's face, though. His face was shrouded in darkness the whole time he was doing unmentionable things to Win in his dream. However, the young prince is confused about one thing: it is common knowledge that everyone who dreamt of the immortal pharaoh woke up from a terrible nightmare, wailing and sobbing in anguish as they cursed their horrible fate.
It was different with Win. He woke up with a smile on his handsome face as he languidly stretched his sinewy arms over his head. It was a good dream, one of the best I've had in years. Win reminisced bitterly as he touched the offending mark with unsure fingers. He didn't even have a clue that it was the immortal pharaoh he dreamt of until a servant almost destroyed his eardrums with her blood-curdling scream the moment she entered his room with a golden basin of tepid but fragrant water for the prince's morning rituals. It was a good thing she didn't drop the basin and wasted precious water when she spotted the emblem on the prince's flawless neck.
"We are doomed! We are doomed!" The elderly servant fell to her knees slowly, taking care not to spill the basin's precious content.
"What are you saying, Demetria?" Win asked with his brows furrowed in confusion as he drew the covers up to cover his almost naked form as he slept only in his loincloth.
