Black Butler: Sands of Eternity

Chapter 6

The air in the British Museum was thick with history, the walls lined with ancient artifacts that held secrets long forgotten by most. It was here, amongst the relics of Egypt's once-great civilization, that Neitha stood. The weight of centuries hung heavy on her shoulders as she wandered through the dimly lit hallways, her heart racing with the fury of years of captivity. The museum was quiet now, the last visitors having left hours ago, and she was alone with her memories.

She stood before a display case, where the mummified remains of her parents—Amenrekh and Seraphi—lay preserved for all to see. Their sarcophagi were adorned with gold and jewels, their faces frozen in an eternal, peaceful expression that felt foreign to Neitha. The curse of her family, the one that bound her to an immortal life, had granted her power—but it had also stolen her life's true peace.

Her hands, trembling with rage, reached out toward the glass. She could feel the energy of the ancient relics pulsing beneath her fingertips, the whispers of those long gone—her ancestors, the priests, the rulers—calling to her.

"Anubis... guide me," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness. Her eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of sorrow and anger as she turned to face the glass case in front of her. "It's time..."

She could feel the energy building within her, the power of the desert, of the sands, swirling like a storm just beneath her skin. And then, it burst forth, uncontrollable, flooding the room with an overwhelming force.

The ground trembled as Neitha's eyes flashed gold. The sand in the display case seemed to shimmer, distorting as though alive, then began to shift. Ancient Egyptian curses were bound to the earth, tied to the very soil, the very sands of the land—and now, those sands would be hers to command.

With a primal scream, she raised her hands, calling forth the power of her ancestors. The tombs of Amenrekh and Seraphi cracked open, and with a great rumble, the mummies began to stir. Slowly, with an eerie grace, their mummified bodies began to reanimate, the bandages unwinding and falling away as they stepped out of their sarcophagi, their empty eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

The Pharaoh's Curse had been unleashed.

Neitha stood in the center of the room, her power surging through her as the sands began to rise around her, swirling into a massive, ethereal storm. The mummies—her parents—bowed to her as they rose to their full, terrifying height, their faces now full of ancient wisdom. The curses that had bound them to this world could now be controlled by her, an unholy connection between mother, father, and daughter.

"My children," Neitha muttered, her voice a low, reverberating growl. "Rise and follow me. The world shall tremble at our feet."

But the curse was not yet finished.

The sands twisted and shifted, forming swirling images of death. The golden masks of ancient pharaohs appeared, their haunting faces leering at the world, while skeletal hands reached out from the sand to grasp at the air. The tombs of Egypt had never been this alive, and the curse Neitha had unleashed had the power to bring the world to its knees.

The sands began to spread beyond the museum, flowing out into the streets of London, creeping into the cracks of the city's foundation like a creeping plague. In the distance, a storm of sand and dust began to gather, blotting out the sun, the power of Neitha's curse reaching beyond her control.

Her heart raced, adrenaline pumping as the sheer force of her power overwhelmed her. Her body shook with the intensity of the curse she had unleashed, and she could feel her ancestors watching over her, guiding her in this destructive moment.