Sly Cooper: Family of Thieves

Chapter 70: Pyramid Pen Pals

The revelation of Sangue's hieroglyphic message left me with a mix of emotions—joy that she was okay, but an ache in my heart at the distance that separated us. The question echoed in my mind, and as I stared at the pages of the journal, an overwhelming need to respond gripped me.

Bentley and Penelope exchanged glances, sensing the turmoil within me. "Sly, what do you want to do?" Bentley asked, his eyes filled with understanding.

Without a word, I took the stylus and studied the symbols. I may not have been an expert in ancient hieroglyphics, but Sangue's message had ignited a determination in me to communicate across the vast expanse that separated us.

Carefully, I etched the question into the little corners of the journal: "Where are you?" The strokes of the stylus formed the symbols, each line representing a plea from the depths of my heart. The ancient language became a conduit for the unspoken words that echoed within me.

As I finished the last stroke, I looked at Bentley and Penelope. "I want her to know we're here, that she's not alone."

Bentley nodded, a silent acknowledgment of our shared sentiment. Penelope offered a reassuring smile, understanding the significance of the message.

The van, once a hub for planning heists and sharing laughter, now held the weight of unspoken emotions. The hieroglyphs on Sangue's journal transformed it into a vessel of connection, a bridge between worlds separated by time and space.

I closed the journal, the message sent into the void, hoping it would reach Sangue wherever she was. The night air outside the van seemed to carry the echoes of our shared history, the adventures, the camaraderie, and the unbreakable bond that defined the Cooper Gang.

As I settled back into the makeshift bed, the van embraced the quiet of the night, the hieroglyphic message a silent declaration across the realms of time. Sleep eluded me, but within the van's familiar confines, surrounded by the remnants of our adventures, I found solace in the hope that Sangue would receive the message and, in her own enigmatic way, respond to the call that echoed through the pages of the ancient journal.